And The Bible Didn't Mention Us (Not Even Once)
by TheNextFolchart
Summary: Drabbles for the obscure, the forgotten, the unappreciated, and the nameless. Written for the Tien Len Competition on HPFC.
1. Ice - Abraxas Malfoy

**Ice**

_Abraxas Malfoy_

* * *

"Braxas, come _on_," shouted Dorea, yanking her friend toward the ice. "It'll be _melted _by the time you're done!"

Abraxas Malfoy scowled and tugged his mittened hand out of hers. "I have to lace my skates."

"Just use magic," she begged.

"No. We aren't allowed to use magic outside school. You know that as well as I do."

Dorea groaned. A gust of wind caught her hair, blowing it in circles around her face, but she didn't shiver. Blacks never shivered. "I'll get my brother," she offered. "Pollux is of age, he'll do them right up for you."

Abraxas ignored her and bent over his silver ice skates. The long strings were hard to grip between the thick padded fingers of his mittens, and every time he came close to a knot they would slip away from him and dance in the wind. It would have been maddening, except for the fact that Abraxas wasn't all that keen on getting his skates tied, because he wasn't the one who had wanted to go ice skating in the first place.

No, it was Dorea who'd shrieked with delight when she'd seen frozen pond in the Malfoy's garden, and it was Dorea who had begged her brother to conjure up these Muggle skates, and it was Dorea who was forcing Abraxas out of his nice warm bedroom in favor of tempting fate.

"We could fall through, you know," Abraxas said when he had his laces tied up.

"We won't fall through."

"You never know."

"If you fall through, I'll save you."

He scoffed. "How?"

She shrugged. "I'll jump in after you."

"That's no good, then you'll die, too."

She gave him that famous Black eye-roll. "Nobody's going to die. It's _ice skating_. Even _Muggles _do it. If they can manage not to fall through, then so will we."

Abraxas didn't say anything.

"Look, if you're really scared, I'll ask Pollux to put a charm on the ice to make sure it doesn't break."

"I'm not _scared_."

Dorea bit her lip. "You seem scared."

"I just think this is a waste of _time_. It's the winter holidays. I've got work to catch up on. Slughorn won't be happy if - "

"Braxas." She grabbed his arm. "It's one afternoon. Just one. I've barely seen you all year."

"You're the one who went and got yourself Sorted into Gryffindor."

She shoved her red hair behind her ear. "Why does that matter?"

"Slytherins and Gryffindors can't - "

"We _can_, and you know it."

Abraxas didn't say anything for a moment. "Let's just get this the hell over with," he said, marching as steadily as he could toward the pond. "I've got essays waiting for me inside."

Dorea stepped onto the ice with confidence and began to weave lazy circles across the pond. "Come _on_, you coward," she called when she saw Abraxas lingering in the snow by the edge of the pond.

He shook his head. "I'm fine right here!"

She skidded to a stop in front of him. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you don't know how to skate," she accused.

Abraxas set his jaw. "I know how to skate."

"Prove it." Her cheeks were bright pink from the cold, but she didn't appear to notice. "Just step onto the ice, you ninny."

"It might break," he said.

"And what, you're afraid of the water?"

"No!" But he said it a little too quickly, and comprehension dawned on Dorea's face.

"Do you - d'you not know how to swim?"

His cheeks were the ones turning pink now, and it had nothing to do with the chill.

"Abraxas Malfoy, how did you get away with not learning how to _swim_?"

He wouldn't look at her. "I can swim."

"Then what are you afraid of?"

"I'm not _afraid_. I just prefer the air. I'll gladly play you in Quidditch," he offered.

Dorea swept her hair out of her face once more. "Step onto the ice," she said, "and take _one lap _with me, and then we'll go inside and you can do your essays. Okay?"

Abraxas thanked _Merlin _she couldn't see how hard his heart was pounding. "Fine," he said coolly, and he took a tentative step onto the frozen surface of the pond. "See? Not afraid."

Dorea reached for his hand. He looked at it in disgust, and she finally let it fall back to her side with a huff. "What is the _matter _with you? We used to be _friends, _don't you remember? What, now that there's a label on my personality you can't be seen with me anymore? You can't _touch _me anymore? Have I really changed so much?"

He shrugged. "It's not that."

"Then what is it, Malfoy, because I'm dying to know."

He put his other foot on the ice - Merlin, these silver skates were _heavy - _and pushed off clumsily. "Come on," he said, and he was keeping his balance, but only barely. "Let's do a lap so I can get these bloody things off my feet."

Dorea shook her head. "No. Never mind. If caring about me is such a bloody chore, I won't bother you anymore."

He glowered at her. "You can't be _serious._"

"I am." She bent to undo her skates. "You know, I don't know you at all anymore."

He felt a twinge of guilt - not enough to make him want to skate with her, but enough to make him stumble a little. "Dorea," he began, but he was cut off by her scream -

- because just as he'd predicted, just as he'd bloody _told her_, the ice wasn't thick enough to support them, and she'd fallen through.

"DOREA!" He tried to run to her - fell - kept going on his hands and knees - bent over the hole in the ice where she'd gone down. "DOREA!"

All he saw was blackness.

"MUM!" he screamed toward the manor. "Pollux! Come quick! It's urgent!"

But nobody came, and Dorea's hat came floating up from the depths, but Dorea herself was nowhere to be seen - her skates were probably weighing her down. "You _idiot_," he whispered, and then he tugged off his skates and, with a few deep breaths to keep a cool head, he made the plunge after her.

Even with his eyes open, Abraxas could see nothing in the murky water beneth the ice. He flailed blindly, hoping against hope that he'd bump her and have some idea where she was. _Stupid bloody Dorea,_ he thought, reaching through the freezing water. _I can't believe I'm going to drown over a _Black.

And then he found her, or she found him - it didn't matter, one of them grabbed the other's hand and began to yank toward the surface, and with a burst of desperate accidental magic they were rocketed up out of the pond and landed in a heap in the snow.

"Are you alright?" Abraxas panted, shivering violently.

Dorea was shivering, too. "Fine," she said.

"You _owe me_," he moaned, pushing wet hair out of his face. It was already freezing into icicles.

"I was handling it. I had my wand." She held it up to show him. "I got us out of there."

All the breath left his body. She'd had her _wand? _"We can't use magic outside of school," he said, getting to his feet.

"We can in life-threatening situations!"

Abraxas threw his hands in the air. "Fine. Fine! Nice to know I risked my life for you for _nothing!" _He glared at her, eyes blazing. "Don't you _ever_ say I don't care about you again. Don't you _dare_." He turned and began to stalk away toward the house.

"Braxas?" She ran after him and grabbed his shoulder.

"_What?_"

Her chin was trembling. "I - thank you." She swallowed, and then rose up on tiptoe to press her cold lips against his cheek. "Just - thank you," she whispered, and then she ran toward the manor ahead of him.

He stood in the snow for a few seconds, staring after her.

(It was the last time either of them acknowledged the other.)

* * *

_[Tien Len Competition: 2 of Hearts - Abraxas Malfoy, ice, "It's urgent!", "When people are taken out of their depths they lose their heads, no matter how charming a bluff they may put up."- F Scott Fitzgerald]_

_[Disney Character Competition: Stromboli - write about someone who forces someone else to do something. Prompt: ice skates]_


	2. Rotten - Olive Hornby

**Rotten**

_Olive Hornby_

* * *

Olive Hornby woke up in the Hospital Wing with very little memory of the day before.

"She's awake!" Lucretia Black announced to the gaggle of girls crowding around her bed. "Are you all right, Olive?" Lucretia asked. "How do you feel?"

"Mmph." Olive stretched and rolled over to face her best friend. "I dunno. What happened?"

"That's what we wanted to ask you!" piped up little Cedrella. "Nobody knows!"

"What do you mean, nobody knows? Nobody knows _what_?"

"Why you fainted," Lucretia said. "One minute you were fine, and then suddenly you ran out of the bathroom and passed out on the floor. Don't you remember?"

Olive shook her head. "I don't remember anything."

"Not even about Myr - ?" asked Cedrella, but Celia Weasley hit her arm before she could finish.

"Myrtle?" Olive finished. "What about her?"

"Erm . . . she's dead."

"She's _what_?" But something about that tugged at her memory, and Olive felt her chest begin to go numb. "She's _what?_"

"She died in the bathroom," Celia said. "They don't know how."

"They don't know - "

"She seemed totally fine, other than the fact she was dead," Lucretia said, leaning over to whisper (Olive could smell old chicken on her friend's breath, and she wrinkled her nose). "And she wasn't wearing her glasses. They think she'd been crying."

Olive sat up and shooed Lucretia away from her face. "Why was she crying?"

Lucretia and Cedrella exchanged glances. "You really don't remember?" Cedrella said finally.

"No, I _really don't._"

"You told her to kill herself, Olive," Celia said quietly.

"What? I wouldn't say something like that!"

"You did," Lucretia said, reaching over to smooth the blankets down over Olive's waist. "You were over at the Ravenclaw table, sitting with Ursula Flint's boyfriend - "

"Oh, is this _really _about what happened with Daniel?" Olive flipped her hand as if the conversation had been nothing, but her heart was pounding, because _this _part she remembered, and this part was not something she was proud of.

"You fancy him," Lucretia accused. "You've fancied him for ages, and now that Ursula's busy studying for NEWTs, you're taking advantage of her absence to get close to him."

"We're _friends_," Olive snapped.

"I dunno, Olive," Celia said, biting down on her lower lip, "I don't think friends say things like that to each other."

"What'd you say?" Cedrella asked eagerly, and then, when her friends glared at her: "What? I didn't hear this part of the story."

"Well," Celia began, "Olive picked up the apple Daniel was saving to bring to his girlfriend, and she said she was going to dip it in poison to get her out of the way so Olive could have Daniel all to herself. "

"I wasn't really going to poison her," Olive said. "It was a _joke_."

"Joke or not, Myrtle heard Olive say it, and she said something like, 'I'm telling! I saw it happen!' And then Olive looked at her and told her - "

"Enough." Olive blinked several times. "I don't want to hear the rest."

"I do," Cedrella muttered.

"There's nothing to hear." Olive fixed her friend with a glare. "It _didn't happen. _Okay?"

"I'll tell you later, Ella," Celia said quietly.

Olive slapped Celia's arm. "Don't talk about me behind my back!"

"Well, you won't let me talk about you in front of your face, so unless you'd like to enlighten her. . . ."

Olive set her jaw. "I told Mopey Myrtle that if she couldn't mind her own business, she might as well just kill herself," she announced. "And apparently, that's exactly what she did. Well, good. We're better off without nosy busybodies in our lives."

"_Olive!_" Cedrella cried. "I can't believe you just said that."

"What? She was rude, and unpopular, and did you ever look at her glasses? Crime against fashion."

"So you really don't remember when happened when you went inside that bathroom?" Cedrella asked. "Nothing at all?"

"Nothing." She closed her eyes. "I know I was looking for Myrtle. Dippet made me go find her and apologize, because Daniel told Ursula what happened, and Ursula told everyone else, that fat gossiping cow - "

"Focus," Celia said. "You were looking for Myrtle."

"Right, and I know she goes to cry in that bathroom sometimes, so I pushed the door open . . . And . . . I don't know. I don't remember the rest." She shrugged. "Sorry. Must be shock or something."

"Well, they've moved her body," Celia said. "The official explanation for her death is that it's part of the attacks on Muggleborns happening lately. But the gossip says suicide."

Cedrella grinned. "What if Olive's the one attacking them? What if she's the Heir of Slytherin?"

Olive laughed. "Oh, yes, that's me! Killer of Mudbloods and savior of the wizarding world!" She swung her legs out of the hospital bed. "I'm going back to that bathroom," she said. "I want to find out what I can't remember."

"Are you crazy?" Lucretia asked, falling into step with her friend. Cedrella and Celia followed in their wake. "Myrtle _died_ in there. It could be dangerous!"

"Not for me. I'm a pureblood. And I'm not suicidal." She swung the bathroom door open and marched inside. "Well? Are you coming?"

Her friends lingered in the hallway. "We'll wait," Celia said as the door slid shut. "Holler if you need us!"

_Cowards, _Olive thought. She looked around. The bathroom looked exactly the same as all the other bathrooms in Hogwarts: white sinks, tall mirror, four stalls. The only dash of color was a bright red apple resting on the edge of the sink. Olive lifted it by its stem and dropped it in the bin before leaning up close to the mirror and began to pinch her cheeks for a bit of color. "There's nothing here," she called to the closed door. "Nothing frightening!"

"I think there's something frightening," said someone from just over her shoulder, and Olive froze. There was no reflection in the mirror but her own, no indication of where the voice had come from, but it was a bloody familiar voice, and it belonged to a dead girl.

"Myrtle?" Olive breathed, and her heart was _hammering_.

"Myrtle?" The apple she'd just thrown away rose up from the bin of its own accord and zoomed back to its place on the edge of the sink. Before Olive's eyes, it began to rot. "Myrtle's dead."

Olive whirled around and found herself face to face with a ghost.

"Oh, no, it looks like that cheek pinching was for nothing," Myrtle's ghost said. "You've gone positively white! Shame, that."

Olive screamed.

"You killed me," Myrtle said with a smirk. "Not directly. That _boy _killed me, the boy and his _pet_. But I never would have been in here if it weren't for you." She leaned closer to Olive, and the living girl staggered backward until her head collided with the mirror. "You wanted me to die. You're a murderer."

"No," Olive whispered. "No, I didn't - "

"Shh." The smirk was gone. "Stop talking. It's my turn to talk to _you _now."

Olive snapped her mouth shut. She couldn't stop trembling.

"I am going to haunt you until the day you die," Myrtle said darkly. "I am going to make you regret everything you've ever done, every word you've ever said. And you know what? I'm going to be a hero for that. Nobody likes you, Olive. People only follow you around so you won't bully them. You're cruel, and disgusting, and I been _dying_ to say that to you for _years_."

Olive opened and closed her mouth wordlessly.

"Nothing to say, hmm?" Myrtle let out a giggle. "No clever retorts? No threats?"

Olive let out a strangled gasp.

Myrtle leaned in close. "Boo."

Olive let out a silent scream and rocketed out of the bathroom, where she collided with Cedrella, who had had her ear pressed against the door. She bolted down the corridor until she was out of sight of the bathroom, and then she sank to the floor and began to rock.

"Well?" Celia asked when they caught up with her. "What happened?"

Olive opened her mouth to tell them.

(But nothing came out.)

* * *

_[Tien Len Competition: Ace of Hearts - Olive Hornby, apple, "I'm telling, I saw it happen!", "One cannot and must not try to erase the past merely because it does not fit the present."- Golda Meir]_

_[Wizard Sweets Challenge: Acid Pops - write about poison]_

_[Disney Character Competition: Pumbaa - write about someone considered physically imperfect by sociaty. Prompt: murder]_

_[Collect A Collection Competition: Moaning Myrtle (Riddle/Marauder Era)]_

_[Fan-Fiction Terms Category Competition: Flame - write about a bully.]_


	3. Something To Tell You- Robert McGonagall

**Something To Tell You**

_Robert McGonagall, Sr._

* * *

The day he married her, just before they sealed it with a kiss, she whispered that she had something to tell him.

"What is it?" he asked, pausing halfway to her lips.

She shook her head. "After," she promised, and rose up on tiptoe to close the distance between them.

"I now pronounce you Mr. and Mrs. Robert McGonagall," the officiate said, and the friends and family members in the pews got to their feet and cheered.

"What were you saying?" he muttered out of the side of his mouth as he led her back up the aisle.

She looked up at him with a wide smile, but her eyes looked troubled. "It can wait until tonight."

* * *

As the two of them climbed into bed -_ the same bed_, for the first time, and he hoped she wouldn't notice how nervous he was - he asked again.

"That thing you wanted to tell me earlier," he said as she ducked under his arm and nestled her head into his chest. "What was it?"

"Hmm?"

"Isobel." He nudged her with his elbow. "Wake up."

"I'm awake."

"Open your eyes, then."

"They are."

He reached over to stroke her hair. "Are they? Are you sure?"

She giggled and opened her eyes. "Yes?"

"What did you want to tell me before?"

"Oh." She pursed her lips. "It really wasn't all that important. I just wanted to tell you I love you." She put a hand on his cheek and pulled him down to kiss her. "I mean it. I really, really love you."

"I love you, too," he said, but he didn't miss her eyes flicking to her jewelry box on the dresser. "What's in - "

"Goodnight, darling," Isobel said quickly, putting her head back down and closing her eyes. "I love you."

He planted a kiss on her head. His eyes were still zeroed in on the jewelry box. "I love you, too, Mrs. McGonagall."

* * *

She walked in on him the next day sitting on their bed with her jewelry box wide open in his lap.

"Robert?"

He didn't look up.

"Sweetheart, are you all right?"

His brow was furrowed. "I don't understand."

She moved to sit beside him. "What don't you understand? My jewelry box? It's where I keep my necklaces."

He pressed his lips into a thin line. "Right. I know. I just . . . I thought there'd be more to it than this." He began to pull her necklaces out, one at a time, and lay them on the bed.

"More to what?" Isobel bit her lip. "Robert? Are you certain you're okay?"

He'd reached the bottom of the box, which was lined in dark red velvet. "What's this?" he asked, poking at the velvet with the tip of his finger.

"What's what?" She peered inside. Her husband (and _Merlin _- no, no, not Merlin, not anymore - and _God_ it felt good to call him her husband) was tapping at a tiny gold keyhole embedded in the bottom of the box. "I've never seen that there before."

"Oh." He looked disappointed, and began dumping the necklaces back in. "I thought - I dunno what I thought."

Isobel waited, but he didn't elaborate. "It's just a jewelry box, Robert," she said with a smile, taking it off his lap and returning it to the dresser. "That's all."

* * *

It wasn't until a year later that he noticed the tiny gold key hanging around her neck.

"Have you always worn that?" he asked, brushing his fingers across her collarbone.

"This?" She touched the necklace gently. "I've worn it for awhile. It was my mother's. I find it comforting." She moved her hand to her stomach. "The baby's kicking," she informed him.

He smiled briefly. "What does it unlock?"

"I don't think it unlocks anything. It's just meant to be pretty. Robert, your child is kicking. Don't you want to feel?"

He put his palm against her swollen belly. "It looks like it could fit that jewelry box on the dresser."

He saw her mask slip, just for a moment. "No," she said, tucking the key down front of her blouse. "It's not that sort of key."

"Oh."

"And there's nothing in that old jewelry box but jewelry."

"Oh."

The baby delivered a particularly hard kick.

He never saw her wearing that necklace again.

* * *

The baby was born at four o'clock in the morning, and she was a girl, and Robert loved her instantly.

"Little Minerva," Isobel cooed. "She's perfect."

But she was _too _perfect, and even though he loved her, Robert couldn't help but wonder why his daughter never cried, and why she seemed so _alert_, and why suddenly every cat in the neighborhood was on his doorstep - although the last one probably had nothing to do with Minerva.

"Darling," Isobel whispered one night when their daughter was asleep. "I have something to tell you."

"Go ahead."

She licked her lips. "Our daughter - and me, too, actually - we're. . . ."

"Yes?"

She sighed. "We love you. Very, very much."

He laughed quietly and kissed her. "I love you both, too. You never fail to amaze me, and impress me, either one of you. Even if I don't understand you most of the time."

She smiled and rested a hand on his arm. "What don't you understand?"

"Well, you remember that one night, when I was going through your jewelry box?"

Isobel sighed. "Robert, it's nothing but a jewelry box."

(But her hand jumped to her throat, feeling for a key that she no longer wore around her neck.)

* * *

"Isobel, I wish you would eat."

"I'm not hungry," replied his wife from the other side of the door. "Please go away."

He sighed. "I know you're upset. I wish there was something I could do."

"There's nothing. Just leave me alone. Leave _us _alone."

"Darling, I love - "

"I said _go!_"

"No." He rattled the doorknob. "Let me in. I'm worried about you. I know depression can be common after a birth, but if you would let me _help_ - "

"Don't you _dare _come into this room, Robert McGonagall, or I swear to _Merlin - _"

"You swear to _what_?"

Silence.

"Isobel, let me in."

"God," she said. "I meant I swear to _God_."

He wrenched the doorknob hard to the right. It broke through the lock, which was old and mostly broken anyway.

"Don't!" Isobel cried, jumping up and lunging to close the door, but it was too late, he was already partway inside, and the first thing he saw was his daughter, his new baby daughter, floating in midair with a serene expression on her face.

Robert stood frozen for a moment, arms dangling limply at his sides, paralyzed by shock. "What the _hell_," he finally whispered, "is going on here?"

Isobel closed her eyes. "I have something to tell you."

* * *

Locked away in the bottom of her jewelry box, he learned, was a long stick of wood.

(She called it her "wand.")

She called herself a witch, and she called him a Muggle, and she called their daughter a half-blood, and she called them a family, except that was wrong, because families didn't _lie _to each other, families didn't keep _secrets, _families didn't _cover up the fact that they could do bloody magic._

"Minerva can't control her magic," Isobel explained. "She's too young. I have to keep her hidden away, so nobody will find out. I just - I didn't know what else to _do_."

"You could have told me," he said.

She nodded. "I could have." She pulled the tiny gold key from her pocket and pressed it into his hand. "I wanted to. I was _dying _to." She looked miserable. "I don't blame you if you hate me. I don't blame you if you want to leave me. I just - I didn't know how to reveal it. I'm sorry."

He sank onto the mattress, staring at the key in his palm. "I have something to tell you," he whispered, and she bit down on her lip, prepared for the worst.

But then his eyes moved up until they were locked onto hers, and a small smile spread across his face, and all he said was, "I love you."

(And she knew he meant it.)

* * *

_[Tien Len Competition: King of Hearts - Robert McGonagall Sr, key, "I find it comforting.", "You always admire what you really don't understand."- Blaise Pascal]_

_[Het-Pairings Boot Camp: key]_

_[Disney Character Competition: Minnie Mouse - write about McGonagall. Prompt: child]_

_[Star Challenge: Vega - write about a wedding]_

_[Relationship Bingo Board Challenge: B1 - verb: shock]_

_[100 Prompts: "Will someone please tell me what is going on?!"]_

_[Fan-Fiction Terms Category Competition: POV - write a story that's not from the point of view of a main character]_


	4. Candle - Cygnus Black

**Candle**

_Cygnus Black_

* * *

"Daddy?"

Cygnus rolled over and found himself face to face with his daughter. In the dim moonlight streaming through the curtains, he could see her lower lip trembling. "Andromeda? What is it?"

She shifted from one bare foot to the other. "I can't sleep."

Cygnus sat up and squinted at her. "Why not, sweetheart?"

"It's too dark. I'm scared."

"Is Bella scared, too?"

"No. Bella's asleep. So is Cissy. I checked their rooms. I'm the only one who's awake." Her eyes were brimming with tears. "Will you come lie down with me?"

With a glance at his wife, who was sleeping soundly, Cygnus swung his legs out of bed and picked his wand up off the bedside table. "Lead the way," he told her, and she took hold of the hem of his nightshirt and padded away down the hallway.

When they made it to her bedroom - Cygnus almost broke his neck tripping over a toy broomstick someone had left in the hallway - Andromeda pulled back the covers and motioned for him to climb in first. His legs hung over the end of her twin-sized bed, but he tucked them up and curled himself into a ball so they could both fit. "Thank you, Daddy," Andromeda whispered, snuggling against his chest and closing her eyes.

He moved a hand around to rub her back. "Goodnight, sweetheart."

But it was only a minute or two before her eyes were open again. "It's still too dark," she said.

"Hmm." Cygnus sat up again and stroked his chin. "What do you think we should do about that?"

She shrugged. "Make it bright? Use _lumos_?"

"Okay." Cygnus leaned back and folded his hands primly in his lap. "Go ahead."

Andromeda looked at him strangely. "I can't do _lumos_. I don't have a wand yet. _You _do _lumos_."

As discreetly as he could, Cygnus hid his wand behind his back. "I left my wand in my room," he said.

She threw off the covers. "Let's go get it, then!"

"No, no, Andromeda, stay here." He pulled the covers up over her head. With a giggle, she squirmed out and arranged herself into a sitting position that mimicked his - her hands in her lap, legs curled up. "I want you to find your own solution."

She began to stroke her chin. "You could buy me a wand," she suggested finally.

He smirked. "Not until you're eleven."

"I'm _almost _eleven."

"Not for seven more years, you aren't."

She pursed her lips and stroked her chin again. "I'm stumped," she said finally. "What should we do, Daddy?"

"Hmm. I think I have an idea. You stay here, I'll be right back."

"No!" Andromeda said, scrambling after him. "I want to come with you!"

"Okay." He scooped her up in his arms and carried her downstairs into the kitchen. "Cora?" he called, and the family house-elf scampered around the corner.

"Yes, Master Cygnus?"

"I want you to do a very special task for me," he said, leaning down to address her. "Andromeda needs a candle."

Andromeda wrinkled her nose. "A candle?"

"Not just any candle," her father continued. "A candle that will never run out of wax. A candle that will never blow out."

"Cora will find the candle for Mistress Andromeda!" Cora promised. She began to rummage through drawers until she found an ivory taper mounted in a silver candlestick. She waved her hand over it, and a flame jumped to the wick. She started to offer it to Cygnus, but he shook his head and looked pointedly at the girl in his arms, so she handed it to Andromeda instead.

"Thank you, Cora," Andromeda said, looking with wide eyes at the candle. "Thank you, Daddy."

She held the candle tightly in her fist on the way back up to her room. Together, she and her father chose a place to put it, and when the two of them curled up in Andormeda's tiny bed, the candle lit up even the darkest corners of the room.

"It's perfect," she whispered as she drifted off to sleep.

"I'm glad I could help." He kissed the top of her head. "Any time you need anything, I'm here for you. No matter what. I promise."

"I love you, Daddy."

* * *

"You've got a letter, dear," his wife said seven years later.

_Dear Daddy, _read the letter.

_Hogwarts is just as wonderful as Bellatrix told me. I'm in Slytherin, and I'm already making new friends! I do miss Cissy, though. Please give her a hug from me. _

_My classes are fine. I quite like Potions and Herbology, but I think I'm going to be rubbish at History of Magic - did you know the teacher's a _ghost? _Transfiguration is my favorite so far. I'm quite good at it. Professor McGonagall says that means I have an open mind, a versatile worldview, and a changing personality. Bellatrix says it isn't that remarkable, but I think a changing personality is sort of special._

_I keep my candle on my nightstand. _

_I miss you, Daddy._

_Love,_

_Andromeda._

"Well?" his wife asked as Cissy came clomping down the stairs to breakfast. "What does she say?"

He folded the letter up and slipped it into his pocket. "She says she likes Potions class. Come here, Cissy, your dress is on backwards."

* * *

"I want you out of my house."

"Daddy." Andromeda's lower lip trembled, just as it had seventeen years ago when she'd woken him up in the middle of the night. "Don't do this. Please."

Cygnus lowered his face into his hands. "Don't call me that. Don't you dare call me that."

She was crying. "_Please_, don't do this, don't do this. . . ."

"How long?"

She didn't answer.

He slammed his fist on the table. "How long have you been seeing the mudblood behind my back?"

"Don't call him that."

"_Answer me!"_

"A year. But Daddy, we had to keep it secret, we knew -"

"And now you're _pregnant?_"

She couldn't stop shaking. "_Daddy_," she whispered.

"Don't speak to me. Don't you dare even - "

"Daddy, you _promised._"

The door to the dining room opened a crack, and one of Bellatrix's dark eyes appeared.

"Any time I needed anything," she said, struggling not to sob, "any time I needed _you_, you would be here for me. No matter what. Don't you remember? You _promised me_."

Cygnus raised his head, and his eyes, too, were swimming with tears. "I made that promise to my daughter," he said, and his voice cracked on the last word, because _how could she _and _how could he _and _how could they_. "Not to you." He rose. "I want you out of my house by tonight."

He left the dining room, and Andromeda sank to her knees and sobbed.

* * *

"What's this?" Narcissa asked Bellatrix the next night. They were cleaning out Andromeda's room, because their mother was too angry and their father was too upset, and Cora the house-elf wasn't allowed in case she accidentally picked up any of her former Mistress' clothes.

"What's what?"

Narcissa held up an ivory candle in a silver candlestick.

(There was no flame at the top.)

"I dunno. A candle? Who cares. Throw it out."

"I know it's a candle." Narcissa rolled her eyes. "I just thought - Dromeda always told me it was enchanted to never burn out."

"Maybe she's a liar."

Narcissa pulled out her wand. "_Incendio_," she muttered, and a spark of fire leaped from the tip of her wand.

(But the moment it touched the wick, it sputtered and died.)

* * *

_[Tien Len Competition: Queen of Hearts - Cygnus Black, candle, "It isn't that remarkable.", "Some people break promises for the pleasure of breaking them."- William Hazlitt]_

_[Disney Character Competition: Duchess the White Cat - write about Andromeda. Prompt: Feet]_

_[100 Prompts: barefoot]_

_[Relationship Bingo Board: A5 - A secret relationship]_

_[Star Challenge - Bellatrix - write about Bellatrix and/or her sister(s)]_

_[Collect a Collection - Andromeda Black (Marauder Era)]_


	5. Hopelessly Impossible - Hope Lupin

**Hopelessly Impossible**

_Hope Lupin_

* * *

Remus lay flat on his back in the middle of the day lilies, both hands clamped over his mouth, trying as hard as he could not to giggle. "Remmy?" his mother called overhead. "Remus! Where are you?"

He squeezed his eyes closed and took deep, slow breaths. _Don't laugh. Don't laugh. Don't -_

"Gotcha!" His mother wrapped her arms around his waist and scooped him up into the air. Remus let out a whoop of laughter and kicked his legs back and forth. "Remus, you little monster," Hope Lupin said fondly, setting him on the ground and ruffling his hair. "You were supposed to be helping me with the gardening! The flowers won't plant themselves, you know."

"No, Mummy," Remus said, tilting his head back and squinting one eye shut against the bright sunshine. "I wanna play hide and seek!"

"When we're done with the garden, we can play hide and seek."

"No, Mummy, now!"

She planted her hands on her hips. "Our garden is going to look bare and ugly," she warned.

He mimicked her pose. "Just one turn, Mummy. Just _one_."

"Very well. But I get to hide."

"Hooray!" Remus put his arms above his head and jumped in the air. "I seek! I seek!"

"Yes." Hope leaned over to untwist the strap of his little overalls. "You seek. Count to twenty."

"Okay!" He squeezed his fingers together and used them to block his eyes. "One. Two. Three - Mummy, are you going?"

"I'm going," she called from the other side of the garden.

"Okay. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Mummy, what's after seven?"

"Eight!"

"Eight. Nine. Ten. Tendy-one. Tendy-two. Tendy-three. Tendy-four." He spread his fingers, just a little, to see where his mother was going, but she'd already hidden and he couldn't find her. "Tendy-five. Tendy-six. Tendy-seven. Mummy, what's after tendy-seven?"

"Eighteen!"

"Eighteen. Tendy-nine. Tendy-ten. Twenty!" He threw down his arms and blinked rapidly against the brightness of the sun. "Ready or not, I'm coming to find you!" He took off toward the big rock at the west end of the garden, panting from excitement and from the warmth of the day. "Found you!" he cried when he discovered his mother crouching behind the rock. "Okay, now you seek."

Hope laughed and shook her head. "We have to garden now. Remember the deal?"

Remus pouted. "One more turn."

She pulled him close and rubbed her nose against his. "Have I told you lately that you are hopelessly impossible?"

"One more turn," he begged, and she gave in, because she swooned when he bared his tiny teeth in that smile, and how was it possible to love a human being this much?

"I'll count this time," she said, reaching over to fix his overalls - the other strap was twisted, this time. How did he manage to get so tangled up? "You go hide."

"Okay," Remus agreed. "But no peeking, Mummy."

"Okay." She covered her eyes with her hands. "One. Two."

"I see you peeking!" he cried.

She laughed wickedly and put her fingers back together. "Three. Four. Five."

She heard him scamper off, breathing loudly through his mouth and gasping with pent-up giggles.

"Six. Seven. Remmy? What comes after seven?"

"I dunno!" came his high-pitched answer from the other side of the garden.

"Hmm. Is it . . . eight?"

"Yes!"

"Oh, good. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven." She uncovered her eyes and began to scrape at the dirt beneath her fingernails. Gardening would have been far less messy with magic, and she knew she could have waited for Lyall to come home and asked him to fix up the plants. But it was the first warm day of the year, and she and Remus had been cooped up inside for months; being out in the sunshine was just what they needed, especially when so many dark things were happening. Because Lyall was in trouble at the Ministry over a comment about werewolves, and they didn't have quite enough money anymore, and at least with gardening she had control over _something_.

"Mummy."

Hope jumped and turned around. Her son was standing directly behind her, his arms crossed over his chest, a scowl on his face.

"Found you," Hope said with a smile.

He shook his head. "You're peeking."

She threw her hands back over her eyes. "Was not."

She heard him laugh. "Have I told you lately that you're hopelessly impossible?" he asked, and he choked a bit on the longer words, but Hope's heart melted anyway.

"Let me try again," she begged, and he looked doubtful, but he nodded.

"Count to a _hundred_ this time," he said before he rushed away.

"Fine, fine. One. Two. Three…."

She really did keep her eyes covered this time, all the way to eighty-nine, which was when Remus screamed.

"Remmy?" She was on her feet before her mind had even registered what had happened. "Remus?"

Silence.

"Remus!"

Nothing.

She took off. The scream had come from the other side of the yard, where the lawn faded off into the forest, and she was running, running, running, but it wasn't fast enough, _she wished she wasn't a muggle, she wished she could Apparate._

"Remus!"

She was crying, and she didn't see him, _where was he_, why had he chosen _this round _to become good at hide and seek?

"Remus!"

She was in the forest, checking behind every tree, but the sunshine could no longer reach her down here, it was choked and strangled and killed by the forest, and she couldn't see anything.

"REMUS!" she screamed. "WHERE ARE YOU?"

"Boo."

Hope shrieked and whriled around to see her son, bearing a monstrous grin, standing on the edge of the lawn.

"Did I scare you?"

"Remus John Lupin." She folded him into a fierce hug. "I don't know whether to kiss you or to punish you."

He giggled. "So I _did _scare you!" He wormed out of her embrace and skipped back to the garden. "I scared Mummy!" he sang. "I scared Mummy!"

Hope closed her eyes and tried to stop crying.

(A few paces behind her, hidden by the darkness of the forest, a man dressed in rags watched the scene with a smile on his face.)

* * *

"_Eighty-seven. Eighty-eight. Eighty-nine."_

_"MUMMY!"_

_"Remus?"_

_"MUMMY!"_

_"Remus, where are - "_

"MUMMY!"

Hope woke with a jolt and sat straight up in bed. "Did you hear - " she asked her husband, who was sitting up, too, but she was cut off by another scream.

"Remus," Hope whispered, just as Lyall roared, "_Greyback!_" and grabbed his wand.

"Greyback?" Hope's head snapped to the window.

The pale face of the full moon stared back at her.

She made it to her son's room just in time to see Lyall use a spell that sent a giant wolf flying out through the window. "Remus," she cried, running to his bed, and then she began to weep.

Her son was covered in blood. His arm bore a giant set of tooth marks. And he wasn't moving.

"Remus, Remus, Remus," she whispered, clutching him to her chest. "My baby, my baby."

"Hope," Lyall said. "Hope, _move_." He shoved her out of his way and began to wave his wand in complicated patterns over Remus' body. The blood stopped, and his wounds healed over instantly, but the tooth mark-shaped scar remained. "Remmy? Rem, can you hear me?"

Remus moaned and opened his eyes.

Hope reached out to take his hand. "How do you feel, baby?" she whispered.

"Mummy," he said. "Mummy, I want to play hide and seek."

She let out a strangled laugh. "You are hopelessly impossible," she said.

* * *

"He's going to be a werewolf now," Lyall said bitterly a few nights later. "You know that, don't you?"

Hope nodded. "I don't care. I love him anyway."

"He'll be a monster. They're soulless. Evil. They're all like Greyback."

"I will love him no matter what he is. He's my son. And he's your son, too. Maybe it's time you rethink a few of your prejudices, Lyall."

And she looked out at their garden, lit up by the light of the waning moon.

* * *

_[Tien Len Competition: Jack of Hearts - Hope Lupin, sunshine, "Have I told you lately that you are hopelessly impossible?", "One is loved because one is loved. No reason is needed for loving."- Paulo Coelho]_

_[Disney Character Competition: Kaa - write about Fenrir Greyback. Prompt: wound]_

_[Collect A Collection: Remus Lupin (Marauder's Era). Prompt: Playing]_

_[Fan-Fiction Terms Category Competition: Next-Gen - write about someone as a child]_


	6. Five Minutes - Filius Flitwick

**Five Minutes**

_Filius Flitwick_

* * *

"Quills down," Professor Dumbledore ordered, but Filius wasn't done.

"Professor," he said, thrusting his hand in the air. The other students had handed in their Transfiguration tests without comment and begun to file out into the corridor. "Please, could I have a five more minutes?"

Dumbledore came down from his desk to stand before his student. "Mr. Flitwick, we've been over this before," he said kindly, tugging the exam away from his student. "If I've asked for your answer to be one paragraph long, all I need is one paragraph. I don't need. . . ." He trailed off to flip through the parchment in his hand. ". . . eight pages. You've done more than enough. You don't need five more minutes." He waved his wand and sent Filius' exam flying over to his desk. "And now, if you'll excuse me, I believe lunch is waiting in the Great Hall." He began to follow the last of his students out the door.

Filius raced after him. "But Professor, I was in the middle of explaining a complicated spell - for the bonus points - and I still have more to say, and - "

"Mr. Flitwick, the exam is over. There isn't enough time."

(Filius scored 119% on his Transfiguration exam.)

(But with an extra five minutes, he knew he could have managed 120%.)

* * *

"Filius," Damocles Belby called up the stairs. "Pomona is here!"

Filius cursed under his breath as he glanced in the mirror. "I'll be right down," he replied, smoothing back his hair. "You can do this," he whispered to his reflection. "She's just a girl. It's just dinner. That's all. Nothing complicated. Nothing - "

"Filius?" Damocles poked his head into the boy's dormitory. "What's taking you so long? Pomona is waiting outside in the corridor."

"I need five minutes," he insisted.

"What difference is five minutes going to make? She says your reservations are for 7:30. I'd go now if I were you, mate."

So he cut his self-pep talk off in the middle and went downstairs, where Pomona Sprout was waiting (and she looked _radiant, _dressed head to toe in yellow, with her hair spiraled up in a complicated bun). "Hi," he said nervously, looking up, because she was short but he was shorter, and if he'd had those extra five minutes, he might've realized that and come up with a stretching charm for his legs.

"Hi," she said easily, grinning at him. "To Hogsmeade?"

"To Hogsmeade."

The Three Broomsticks was packed - the Weird Sisters were playing a gig outside in the square, and people were running in every few minutes for new drinks - but they found a cozy table in the back. "I'm really glad you came out with me," Pomona said, leaning forward so he could hear her over the noise.

"Me, too," he said, fiddling with the edge of his menu. "Say, d'you - while we're waiting, d'you want to dance?"

"Sure!" She slid out of the booth and offered him her hand. He took it, and they made their way through the throng of people until they found a spot clear enough for dancing.

"You want to know something?" she said a few minutes later, when the song was over.

"What?"

"I don't - I don't really like to dance."

"Oh, really?" He let out a huge sigh. "Nor do I."

She giggled. "I'm going to go order us a butterbeer," she said. "D'you want to meet me back at the table?"

"Sure." He ducked under arms and wove around bodies and finally collapsed back into his seat. It was five minutes later when Pomona came back, with a butterbeer in one hand and a boy holding the other.

"Filius, this is Rufus. Rufus Scrimgeour. We went up to get our drinks at precisely the same time and he - " She giggled. "He's just asked me on a date!"

"He - what?"

"I know! It's like destiny. We're going to go find a quieter restaurant. But this was quite fun. You're a great friend." She kissed him on the cheek, dropped his butterbeer on the table, and disappeared with Rufus.

("What difference does five minutes make?" Damocles had asked.)

(A whole world of difference.)

(Because Pomona stayed with Rufus for nearly six years, and he, Filius, was alone.)

* * *

Filius didn't even notice he'd fallen asleep until it was too late.

"Flitwick," Mad-Eye Moody roared. "Get up!"

Filius blinked rapidly. "What?"

"You dozed off! You bloody dozed - "

"_Stupefy!_" cried a Death Eater, and Moody forced Filius' head down to avoid the jet of light.

"You can't doze off," Moody yelled, sending a shower of sparks at the Death Eater, "when you're on Order duty! We knew they were going to break into Gringotts. We knew it was going to happen tonight. And even though you knew, you still bloody fell asleep." Two more Death Eaters came through the doors, already firing hexes. "_Expulso_," Moody yelled, and they both went flying into the wall with a burst of blue light.

"It was _five minutes_, I swear," Filius cried. He jumped to his feet and waved his wand, charming the giant goblin statue to come to life and block the door to the Gringotts vaults. "No more than five - _expelliarmus! _- minutes!"

"Five minutes too long," Moody growled. "It's not complicated, Flitwick. Constant vigilance."

"I'm - _impedimenta! _- sorry, Alastor, I didn't mean to."

"There isn't enough time for sorry. Just learn from this mistake. It's not - ah, nice try, Yaxley, _flipendo! _- it's not worthless if you learn from it."

"_Locomotor Mortis!_" Filius yelled; a Death Eater went sprawling across the floor. His hood fell back to reveal Rabastan Lestrange. "Oh, that's a shame. He was one of my brightest students. Believe me, Alastor, I know how much of a difference five minutes can make."

"_Locomotor Wibbly_. You're lucky I was here. I won't always be. Dolohov, you bastard, get away from there! _Relashio!_"

(In the end, nothing was stolen.)

(But five minutes almost cost them everything.)

* * *

"Professor Flitwick," Hermione said, approaching his desk after class one day. "I was wondering if I could talk to you about something."

"Very well, Miss Granger, what is it?"

She handed him a piece of parchment. "That's a note from Professor McGonagall. It's meant to explain that I have such a heavy course load this year that I need some assistance. So the Ministry let me borrow one of these." She dipped her fingers into her blouse and pulled out a small hourglass on a chain necklace. "It's a Time Turner. It - "

"Oh, I know what it does, Miss Granger." He took it in his palm and held it up to his eyes. "Be careful with this. The temptation to misuse it can be unbearable."

"I've read all about the consequences," she said immediately. "I know how much trouble you can get into if you see yourself, or - "

"That's not what I meant." He handed it back to her. "Make sure you only use this for the right reasons."

She blinked. "Like what, sir?"

"Don't use it to get five more minutes. Don't use it for more time on an exam, or to fix a faux pas, or to keep yourself from making a mistake."

"I - sir, I would never."

"Because Hermione, time is too complicated to play with, and those mistakes you make, they're important. You need them. They're lessons. They're more important than your school lessons."

She looked at him coldly. "I don't think anything's more important than school lessons."

(It contradicted everything he'd said, but he wished he could go back five minutes.)

(He'd take the Time Turner away from her and break it.)

* * *

When the Battle of Hogwarts was over, Filius looked at the bodies filling the Great Hall and began to positively weep.

(Because he'd saved a lot of them.)

(But with an extra five minutes, maybe he could have saved just one - or two - or twenty - more.)

* * *

_[Tien Len Competition: Ten of Hearts - Filius Flitwick, complicated, "There isn't enough time.", "Education is learning what you didn't even know you didn't know."- Daniel J Boorstin]_

_[Disney Character Competition: Rosetta - write about Pomona Sprout. Prompt: Dancing]_

_[It's Open to Interpretation Competition: Memory by Mayday Parade - "This is the memory/This is the curse of having/Too much time to/Think about it." Because the only thing Flitwick has enough time for is fretting that he never has enough time.]_


	7. I Was Hoping - Oliver Wood

**I Was Hoping**

_Oliver Wood_

_Dedicated to Melody. I hope this puts your heart back together, darling._

* * *

The first time Oliver Wood met Katie Bell was in his fourth year, when he was the Gryffindor Keeper and she was a Gryffindor first-year and neither of them had anything in common.

Because Katie liked fashion and Katie liked wandmaking and Katie liked thunderstorms, and the only thing Oliver liked was Quidditch.

"Welcome to Gryffindor," he said to her in passing that first night.

"Thanks." She smiled at him and pulled her hair down from its ponytail. "I was hoping I'd be in this House."

* * *

The second time Oliver met Katie was four months later, on the train home for Christmas holidays, when he was reading Seeker Weekly and she was trying to find a compartment and neither of them really wanted to sit together.

"Oliver?"

He looked up. "Katie, isn't it?"

She nodded. "Is this seat taken?"

He sighed. "No, I suppose not. Go ahead."

She turned pink. "I don't mean to bother you," she said. "I just need a seat, and all the other compartments are full of Slytherin blokes."

"Slytherins." Oliver shuddered. "Totally understandable that you don't want to sit with that lot. Have a seat."

She smiled gratefully and pulled her trunk inside.

"Need a hand with that?" he asked.

"No, I can do it." And with an impressive display of strength that he hadn't expected from a first-year - much less a _girl _first-year - she swung her trunk up into the luggage rack. "Stronger than I look, eh?" she said with a grin as she sat.

"Yeah." He rubbed his jaw. "Just a bit."

"Seeker Weekly?" she asked, nodding at his magazine. "You fly?"

"Do I fly," he scoffed. "You must not come to many Quidditch matches. I'm the best Keeper Gryffindor's seen in a hundred years."

Her eyebrows shot up. "Really?"

"Really."

"That's incredible. I'd like to play Quidditch, but first-years aren't allowed."

"Try out next year. We're losing two Chasers, you could have a shot."

"I do love a good chase," she said with a grin. "But I'm not very good at flying."

"I could coach you," he offered. "After the holidays, maybe."

"Yeah, okay! Thanks!" She was pink again. "I was hoping you'd offer."

He straightened his magazine. "Anything for a fellow Slytherin-hater."

* * *

They entered the next year as friends, when Oliver was Captain and Katie was his newest Chaser and neither of them ever wanted to leave the Quidditch pitch.

"Bell!" Angelina yelled at them one night after dusk had fallen. "Wood! Come _on!_ I'm _starving_"

But Katie didn't want to come down yet, she had the Quaffle in her hands and she was speeding toward the goalposts and she just needed _one more point_, _one more throw, one more demonstration of her impressive strength -_

"Nice try!" Oliver yelled, swerving in front of the rightmost goal -

But Katie sent the ball flying in the other direction, and it went soaring through the center of the hoop.

"Nice try," Katie called back, grinning.

"Katie, I'm leaving without you!" Angelina shouted.

"You got lucky, Bell," Oliver told her when they touched down. "It would never have happened in a real game. It's just that it's dark now, and the visibility - "

"Oh, yeah, another excuse from the infallible Oliver Wood," Katie said, tucking the Quaffle under her arm. "First it's the _wind_, then you had to _sneeze_, and now I'm harnessing the power of darkness for my own invisibility." She punched his arm good-naturedly. "Face it, Oliver. If you're the best Keeper in a hundred years, I'm the best Chaser in _two _hundred."

Angelina threw her hands up. "When you two are done flirting, I'll be in the Great Hall."

* * *

They were in Professor Quirrell's class the next afternoon, which Oliver was taking because he had to and Katie was taking because she wanted to, and neither of them was paying attention because they were still talking about that goal.

"I wasn't invisible," Katie hissed, leaning over her parchment to pretend to take notes on Quirrell's Defense lecture. "It was barely even dark. You just made a snap judgement about which was I was going to throw the Quaffle, and you guessed wrong."

"It wouldn't have happened in a real match."

"It might have. Oliver, it's _okay. _Why won't you let yourself make a bloody mistake once in awhile?"

"Miss Bell?" Professor Quirrell asked.

She looked up. "Yes?"

"Can you name one of the Unforgivable Curses?"

"Oh. Erm, the Imperius."

"Very good." He scratched at the edge of his purple turban. "Now, the Imperius Curse was a favorite of the Dark Lord. . . ."

Oliver poked her arm. "Missing a goal is more than a mistake," he said, picking up their conversation. "Missing a goal is serious."

She rolled her eyes. "I wouldn't call it _serious_."

"It _is _serious, it can make the difference between a win and a loss."

"Winning at Quidditch isn't everything."

"Professor Quirrell, may I borrow Wood for a moment?"

At the sound of his name, Oliver's head snapped up. Professor McGonagall was standing at the classroom door, a grim look on her face. "What did you do?" Katie asked, but he shrugged and went to the door.

"Wood," McGonagall said, beckoning him out into the corridor, and her mouth was pressed in a line but her eyes were sparkling. "I have found you a Seeker."

* * *

They found each other again years after it was all over, when Oliver was in Puddlemere United and Katie was in the Order and neither of them talked anymore.

"Don't beat yourself up, Wood," the Puddlemere Captain said after a particularly hard loss. "It happens to everyone."

Oliver slammed his fist against the lockers.

"Oi! Calm down." He tossed Oliver the Quaffle. "Go back out on the Quidditch pitch and throw a few practice shots. Let off some steam."

"Okay." He tucked the Quaffle under his arm and went back out. The stands were nearly deserted, so he kicked off hard and hurled the ball at the goalpost as hard as he could. It sailed through the center hoop, and he dove to catch it before it hit the ground.

Another goal. Then another.

And letting off steam wasn't working, it was only riling him up more, because they'd missed the win by _ten points, _by _one goal_, and it was his fault, he'd let the ball through one too many times, and it was infuriating.

"Oliver! Down here!"

He looked down to see Katie Bell, standing on the ground and waving furiously.

"Katie?" He flew down to meet her. "What are you doing here?"

"Good to see you, too," she said sarcastically. "I saw the match."

He swore. "Not my best performance."

She rolled her eyes and held out her hands. He passed her the Quaffle. "So you missed one. So what?"

"I missed more than one."

She bit her lip. "I've got my broom in the stands. D'you want to play me? For old time's sake?"

"Sure."

She grinned. "I was hoping you'd say yes." She Summoned her Nimbus, and then they were in the air, throwing the ball back and forth and bantering the way they used to.

"It's getting dark," Oliver called when the sun had gone down. "My vision's going to be impaired."

"Last one, then!" Katie feinted toward the left goalpost and then chucked the Quaffle to the right, but Oliver saw it coming (he wasn't fifteen anymore), moved to block it (she was good, but not _that _good), and sent it flying back into her arms (and she caught it, because she had the reflexes of a Seeker and the strength of a Beater, but she liked the chase, she'd told him once, so she was a Chaser, and she was the best he'd ever seen).

"Good game," she said when they were safely on the ground. "I really thought you were going to miss that last one." She hit his arm good-naturedly, just like she used to back at Hogwarts, and something in him twisted with nostalgia.

"Not me," he said, taking the Quaffle from her. "Not the best Keeper in a hundred years."

She smiled. "It was good to see you, Oliver."

* * *

The next time Oliver Wood saw Katie Bell was half an hour later, when he'd just gotten dressed after his shower and she was bursting into his changing room and neither of them knew what was going to happen next.

"Katie?" Oliver asked, pulling his shirt over his head. "What're you doing in - "

She shook her head wildly. "I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't, I know I'm not supposed to, but I can't - I have to - I have to _try - _"

And then she was kissing him, and he was too surprised to kiss her back at first, but then he _did._

"I'm sor - " she started when they broke apart.

(But he shook his head and pulled her in for another.)

"Oh," Katie breathed afterward. "Oh, I was hoping you'd do that."

* * *

_[Tien Len Competition: Six of Hearts - Oliver Wood, steam, "I wouldn't call it serious.", "If it were not for hopes, the heart would break."- Thomas Fuller]_

_[Relationship Bingo Board: D2, Golden Trio Era]_

_[Scrabble Bonuses Competition: QUICK - Quirrell, Unforgivable, Invisibility, Chase, Keeper]_

_[Disney Character Competition: Vidia - write about a brutal Quidditch match. Prompt: Hunger]_

_[Star Challenge: __Capella - write about any pairing_]

_[100 Prompts: A chase(r) scene]_


	8. I'm Coming - Cho Chang

**I'm Coming**

_Cho Chang_

_Dedicated to Safari, who hates this pairing._

* * *

Six hours after Cedric died, Cho sat by her window and looked at the stars.

She dipped her pinky in black ink and traced the constellations across the glass, and her hand was surprisingly steady.

(They'd learned in Astronomy that the stars were already dead, but that wasn't true, it couldn't be true, not if she could see them, not if they looked alive.)

* * *

Eighteen hours after Cedric died, Cho sat down on the train in an empty compartment and leaned her forehead against the window.

Her fingernail was stained black, and she picked at the dried ink absent-mindedly as the countryside flew past.

"Anything off the trolley, dear?"

Cho looked up. "Two Cockroach Clusters, please."

It was an unpopular choice - they were made of _real cockroaches_, and that was _disgusting, _and _who wants to eat a bug_ - but the trolley lady had a few on her cart, and she exchanged two packages of the candy for four sickles, and then she moved on down the aisle with a sad little smile at Cho.

She didn't eat them. She unwrapped them and held them, one in each hand, and wondered what the poor beasts had done to deserve dying like this. Probably nothing. Probably they'd been minding their own business, and they'd ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time.

She cradled the candy in her palms and pressed her forehead against the window again.

When the Hogwarts Express pulled into King's Cross, she put one Cluster in her pocket and dropped one out the window and onto the train tracks.

* * *

Seventy-two hours after Cedric died, Cho sat in the pew of a muggle church and watched them close his coffin.

The casket's pedestal was littered with photographs of Baby Cedric and Child Cedric and Cedric With His Family and Hogwarts Cedric and Prefect Cedric and Quidditch Cedric and Triwizard Cedric and Cedric In The Newspaper and Happy Cedric and Laughing Cedric and Alive Cedric.

(There were no photographs of Cho's Cedric - not here, and not in existence. They'd been too wrapped up in each other to bother taking any.)

When they lifted his coffin and began to take him away, Cho approached the collection of photographs and carefully set her (slightly melted) Cockroach Cluster behind all of them.

"I love you," she whispered.

That night, she sat by her window and played connect-the-dots with the stars.

* * *

Three months after Cedric died, Cho sat down in the first Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson of the year.

"Well, good afternoon!" Professor Umbridge said when the class had settled in. "Wands away, please, and quills out!"

Cho rummaged through her bag for a quill. She came up holding the wrapper of a Cockroach Cluster.

It was then, three months after it was over, three months after _everything _was _over_, that she started to cry.

"Miss?" Professor Umbridge said sweetly. "Miss, is there a problem?"

Cho could do nothing but hold up the wrapper and sob.

"That's Cho Chang," Marietta Edgecombe explained. "Her boyfriend - "

"I'm sorry," Umbridge interrupted, "but I expect my students to raise their hands when they wish to address me."

Marietta looked confused, but she put her hand in the air anyway.

"Yes, Miss . . . ? "

"Edgecombe," Marietta said, keeping her hand in the air, just in case. "Marietta Edgecombe. Er, Cho's boyfriend was Cedric Diggory, the Hufflepuff boy who died last year." She put an arm around Cho. "It's hard for her to focus right now."

"Well, up to the hospital wing, then," Umbridge said with a wide, vaguely sympathetic smile. "No, no, not you, Miss Edgecombe. I'm sure Miss Chang knows the way herself."

Cho didn't make it to the hospital wing. She kept the wrapper scrunched up in her hand and headed for her common room instead.

The other Ravenclaws let her be, and she sat by the window until the day faded into night and she could take comfort in the starlight.

She traced the constellations over and over into the glass.

* * *

Four months after Cedric died, Cho sat on a broomstick and sped through buckets of rain after the Golden Snitch.

She didn't catch it.

She'd known she wouldn't.

They all had.

It didn't stop Davies from yelling at her.

"I'm sorry," Cho said, her hand in her pocket, fisted around the Cockroach Cluster wrapper - and she didn't know why she still had it, didn't know why she hadn't thrown it away.

Davies sighed. "You don't have to apologize."

"Yes, I do. I'll resign if you want, I obviously can't focus."

He shoved a hand through his rain-soaked hair. "Look, Chang, I know you're going through a lot."

She didn't say anything.

"Don't resign. We'll figure something out. Quidditch could be a good distraction for you."

She shook her head. "There are no distractions for me."

"Cho." He put a hand on her shoulder. "If you need to talk about it to someone . . . I'm here. You know I'm here. Okay?"

"I know you're here."

He pulled her into a hug, and she closed her eyes and convinced herself for a fraction of a second that it was Ced.

"Go get some sleep, Chang. Practice tomorrow at seven-thirty."

(She didn't get any sleep, because the stars were too bright.)

(They were calling to her.)

* * *

Four months and six hours after Cedric died, Cho went back out to the Quidditch pitch.

She mounted her broom and soared up into the air, shivering a little at the chilliness of the night.

"Cedric," she whispered. "Where are you?"

But he didn't answer, couldn't answer, because he was among the stars (she'd traced his face on the window pane a thousand times), and the stars were far away (so far that they were already dead) and they were calling to her again (_Cho, Cho, Cho_).

"I'm coming," she said, coaxing her broom higher.

Above the clouds.

So high she couldn't see the castle anymore, not even the Astronomy Tower.

_Cho, Cho, Cho._

"I'm coming!"

She had one hand in her pocket, stroking the Cockroach Cluster wrapper, because it was _her_, it was the shell of something that used to be whole and alive, but the truth was she'd died the same day Cedric had, she'd left her soul on the train tracks, and she was nothing anymore.

(So high now that she couldn't even see streetlights on the ground, and everything was cool air and starlight and _Cho Cho Cho _and it was deafening_._)

"I love you," she called to the sky, and she was laughing, because she'd already made up her mind. "I love you, and I'm coming, I promise!"

She pulled the wrapper out of her pocket and flung it into the air. It fluttered away quickly, caught by the wind.

Cho spread her arms wide and leaned backward until she was falling.

Falling, falling, falling, like a bird with broken wings.

"I'm coming."

(The stars laughed with her, and they had his voice.)

* * *

_[Tien Len Competition: Five of Hearts - Cho Chang, starlight, "You don't have to apologize.", "Hold fast to dreams, for if dreams die, life is like a broken-winged bird that cannot fly."- Langston Hughes]_

_[Relationship Bingo Challenge: E4 - Photograph]_

_[Het Pairings Boot Camp: funeral__]_

_[Disney Character Competition: Eeyore - write about someone dealing with loss. Prompt: stars]_

_[Wizard Sweets Challenge: Cockroach Clusters]_

_[Star Challenge: Arcturus - write about Quidditch]_


	9. Les Étoiles - Marlene McKinnon

**Les É********toiles **

_Marlene McKinnon_

_Dedicated to Safari, who does not hate this pairing. _

_Not one little bit._

* * *

_**Cast of Characters **_

_**(in order of appearance)**_

_Marlene McKinnon - Éponine Th__é_nardier 

_Albus Dumbledore - Jean Valjean_

_Lily Evans - Cosette_

_Mr. McKinnon - M. Th__é_nardier

_Mrs. McKinnon - Mme. Th__é_nardier 

_James Potter - Marius Pontmercy_

_Sirius Black - Enjolras_

_Frank Longbottom - Courfeyrac_

_Remus Lupin - Combeferre_

_Peter Pettigrew - Javert_

* * *

_**Act 1, Scene I. **_

_The Leaky Cauldron Inn_

* * *

Marlene McKinnon was hiding beneath the stairs when the old man came to take Lily away.

"No more words," Albus Dumbledore said calmly, pulling a large sack from within his robes. It jingled when it hit the table, and Marlene's eyes widened. _Money._ "Here's your price. Fifteen hundred galleons for your sacrifice."

_Fifteen hundred galleons. _It was more money than they'd ever had. Marlene saw her parents glance back and forth between the money, Dumbledore, and each other.

"Come, Lily," the old man said, putting a hand on the little girl's shoulder. "Say goodbye. Let us seek out some . . . _friendlier_ sky."

Lily wouldn't look at the McKinnons as Dumbledore ushered her out the door.

"Can you _believe _it?" Marlene's father scooped his wife up and waltzed her around the inn's dining room. "_Fifteen hundred _galleons! For the brat!"

"I say you should have asked for more," Marlene's mother said, and the two dissolved into conversation as Marlene stole up to bed.

* * *

_**Act 1, Scene II. **_

_The Streets of Hogsmeade; eight years later. _

* * *

"Oi! McKinnon!"

Marlene looked up and immediately felt her face go red. "James," she said, sweeping her dark hair over her shoulder - and she knew it was greasy, knew her face was covered in dirt and sweat, but maybe he wouldn't notice.

He grinned and tucked his textbook under his arm. For a moment Marlene didn't know which she wanted more: the book, or the boy holding it. "What's up today?" he asked. "I haven't seen you much about."

She shrugged and smiled - keeping her lips closed, so he wouldn't see the state of her teeth. "Oh, you know. Around. Here you can always catch me in." She threw her arms wide and gestured to the streets that had become her home.

Because her father wasn't good with money, and the inn wasn't popular anymore, and in the past few years they'd lost _everything_.

(And she wished so desperately that James Potter would take her away from it all.)

"Mind the aurors don't catch you out," he said with a wink.

He started to turn away, and she seized the opportunity to snatch the book from under his arm. "Say, what d'you do with all these books?" she asked, flipping through it.

"We _learn_. You know, magic."

"I could've been a student, too," she said, but her heart panged, because no, she couldn't have.

"But you aren't - I mean, you don't have - "

"Don't judge a girl on how she looks," Marlene snapped, shoving the book back into his arms. "I know a lot of things."

"I know you do. But Marlene, the things you know, you wouldn't find in books like these."

A scream came from around the corner, and Marlene snapped her head around to see a group of Snatchers - led by her father, no doubt - marching into the square. "Stay out of this," she warned James as he reached into his pocket for his wand.

"But, Marlene - "

"You'll be in trouble," she insisted, shoving her way through the crowd. "It's not your concern!"

"Oi! Marlen - "

But then he was tumbling, he'd tripped over something - some_one _- someone beautiful.

"I didn't see you there," he said to the lovely redhead with the bright green eyes, bending to help her up. His eyes were wider than she'd ever seen them. "Forgive me."

And Marlene watched it all with horror in her heart.

* * *

_**Act 1, Scene III.** _

_The Three Broomsticks_

* * *

She pushed into the Three Broomsticks and flung herself into a seat, scowling. "Whiskey," she said shortly, and the bartender passed her a glass of her favorite form of escaping reality.

"What's got you so upset?" asked a voice over her shoulder, and she turned in her chair to see Sirius Black, James' best friend.

"Nothing." She took a sip.

Sirius took a seat beside her. "I'm meant to be leading a meeting here in fifteen - ah, no, thank you, this isn't the time for a drink," he added when the bartender offered him a glass. " - in fifteen minutes. It's for students only, McKinnon. You'll have to leave."

"I don't have to do anything."

"You have to pay for your drink," Sirius pointed out. "And I'm willing to bet you don't have enough money to do that without my help."

She reached into her pocket and pulled out two galleons. "Wrong."

"Where'd you get those, then? Stealing?"

"James."

"Why's James giving you money?"

"I have some information."

Sirius nudged her. "Go on, then. What kind of information?"

"About a woman."

Sirius raised his eyebrows. "A woman?"

Marlene nodded. "She goes by the name of Lily Evans. We were children together."

"And James is interested in her?"

A short nod.

"And you - how do _you _feel about all this?"

Marlene shrugged.

"Liar. You're obsessed with him, Marley. We all know it."

"Doesn't matter. He'll never want me." She looked down at the rags that made up her clothes. "I'm not like you."

"James Potter has never cared about money," Sirius said. "He's not quite _that _shallow."

"Not money." She bit her lip. "I'm not . . . magic."

"Oh. _That._"

"Yes. _That._"

Sirius was suddenly very focused on the counter beneath his hands. "And this Lily girl, she is?"

"Yes."

"You know - " He licked his lips and took a deep breath. "Marley, you know there are other boys. People who will love you no matter what you are."

She laughed bitterly. "Send them my way, won't you?"

"I - "

Frank Longbottom and Remus Lupin came into the bar, and Sirius looked up at their voices. "The meeting's starting," he said. "You - "

"I know, I know." She set one galleon on the counter and stood up. "I'll get out of your way."

"No." He put a hand on her shoulder. "I was going to say - you can stay, if you want to."

She shook her head. "Thank you for the offer. But I - I'd rather not."

When she was outside, she leaned against a building, tilted her head back, and began to count the stars.

* * *

_**Act 2, Scene I. **_

_Hogwarts Castle_

* * *

She ended up at the castle the next night anyway, hair tucked up under her cap, building a barricade to hold back the garrison of Death Eaters with the rest of the students.

"I can find out the truth!" a new recruit called Peter Pettigrew was yelling. "I know their ways!"

"What's this I see?" said a voice at Marlene's ear, and she whirled around to see James Potter. "Merlin, Marlene, the things you do!" He seized her arms. "Get out before the trouble starts!"

"But - "

"Get _out_, Marley, you might be killed."

"I would rather stay with _you_! Let me _help!_"

"You want to help? Here." He shoved a scrap of parchment into her hands. "Take this letter to Lily. And pray to Merlin she's still there."

"Lily?" Marlene repeated. "Lily? You met her one _day _ago."

"Just _go_, McKinnon."

And she did, singing softly to herself (and to the stars) as she went.

* * *

_**Act 2, Scene II. **_

_The Streets of Hogsmeade_

* * *

She was on her way back from Lily's when she heard the fight begin.

"James," she whispered, breaking into a run.

Explosions of light burst over the barricade, like fireworks, like shooting stars, and Marlene was focused so hard at the castle that she didn't even notice when one of them hit her.

* * *

_**Act 2, Scene III.** _

_The Three Broomsticks_

* * *

When she woke, she was clean.

"James?" she murmured, turning over on her side. "James?"

"He's not here, Marley," Sirius Black whispered.

She sat straight up. "He died?"

"No." He offered her his hand. She took it, let him pull her up. "He's alive. He's fine."

"Then where - "

"_You _died, Marlene."

"But - "

"Look around you."

She did.

She was in the Three Broomsticks, but it looked different - brighter, somehow, and cleaner. The other students were there, all chatting and laughing with glasses of alcohol in their hands, and they looked more relaxed than she'd ever seen them.

"This is Heaven, then?" she asked. "The Three bloody Broomsticks with you lot is my Heaven?"

Sirius gently touched her cheek. "There's more. Look at your _hands, _Marley."

And when she raised them to eye level, she realized that one of them was holding a wand.

"Whose is this?" she whispered.

"Yours."

"I have - I have a _wand?_"

He wrapped his fingers around her wrist and gently guided her hand. "_Lumos_," he prompted, and she repeated after him.

A bright light appeared at the tip of her wand.

"It looks like a star," she whispered in wonder, and Sirius dropped her wrist so he could tangle his fingers up in her free hand.

"A star of your very own," he murmured.

* * *

**_Fin._**

* * *

_[Tien Len Competition: Three of Hearts - Marlene McKinnon, favorite, "This isn't the time for a drink!", "We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars."- Oscar Wilde]_

_[Disney Character Competition: Ray - write about someone who admires someone in a higher social class. Prompt: Garrison]_

_[Star Challenge: Canopus - write about someone who is only second-best to someone.]_

_[Oh The Thinks You Can Think: Horton 2.0 - write about someone selfless.]_

_[Collect A Collection: Marlene McKinnon (Marauder's Era). Prompt: Wand]_

_[Fiddler on the Roof Character Challenge: __Fyedka - write about a misfit in magical society.]_

_[100 Prompts: __"You don't have to leave." "Yes, I do."__]_

_[Het-Pairings Boot Camp: student]_

_[Relationship Bingo Board Challenge: B2 - Love Triangle]_


	10. Reasons - Marcus Flint

**Reasons**

_Marcus Flint_

* * *

"Marcus Flint, you absolute dolt."

Marcus lifted his head from his dinner. "Wha?" he asked through a mouthful of pork.

Olivia Shardlow flung herself down next to him. "Oh, don't play dumb." She whipped out a flyer. "What the _hell _is this?" She shook it in front of his face. "What the hell _is _this?"

He took it from her hands and gave a massive swallow. "I dunno what it is, do I, you keep moving it!" He gave her an eye roll and set the flyer on the table. "It's the results of the Quidditch tryouts," he said once he'd given it a good once-over.

"Exactly."

"So?" He shoveled a spoonful of potatoes into his mouth. "Wha's the pwoblem?"

Olivia slammed her fist down on the table. "I'm not _on it_."

"Oh." Marcus swallowed and shrugged. "Yeah, you didn't make the cut. I'm sorry. Try again next year."

"Oh, no, Flint, that's not why I'm upset."

"Then what the hell's the problem, woman?"

Olivia's dark eyes flashed. "There are no females on this list."

"None of 'em made the - "

"Oh, and _Vincent Crabbe _did?" She jabbed her finger at the name scrawled under _Beater. _"Vincent bloody Crabbe beat me out?"

"He's stronger than you. Please go away."

She yanked his plate off the table and threw it across the room. It spun through the air for a fraction of a second before colliding with a pillar near the Gryffindor table and shattering into smithereens. "I'd say that was pretty strong," she said icily.

The entire Great Hall was silent.

"Good aim, too," she added. "Did you see it swerve between the heads of those two Weasleys?"

"Miss Shardlow, is there a problem?" asked Professor Snape.

"Marcus Flint is a sexist _pig_, that's the problem," she replied.

"Am not!" Marcus stood. "Sir, she's just sore because I didn't put her on the Quidditch team."

"No, Professor, I'm not." She yanked the flyer out of Marcus' hands and passed it to Snape. "Seven girls tried out for the team this year. _Seven. _I can give you names if you want. And all of us are _damn _good fliers. Yet this _idiot_ chose Vincent Crabbe over all of us, just because we're female."

"I did not!" Marcus insisted.

"What, Flint, you're telling me Crabbe's better at Quidditch than I am?"

"I - yeah, I am!"

"Oh, _really? _Because I have six witnesses who can tell you I outflew him at the tryouts, and - "

"Miss Shardlow," Snape drawled, "calm down."

Olivia closed her mouth, but she didn't stop glaring at Marcus.

"Mr. Flint. Did Miss Shardlow fly better than Mr. Crabbe in the tryouts?"

"Well, yeah, but - "

"You see!" Olivia cried. "Make him put me on the team!"

"I have a reason!" Marcus said. "And if you'd let me get a word out, I could explain!"

"Go ahead, Mr. Flint," Snape said. "We're listening."

He took a breath. "Thank you." He wrested the flyer out of Olivia's hands. "I put together a team that not only has exceptional fliers, but also represents Slytherin's core values."

"Oh, and I suppose I don't possess _any _of Slytherin's core - "

"Shut your _face_, will you, Olivia?"

"Miss Shardlow," Snape said. "If you please."

"Thanks, Professor Snape. So yeah, I don't believe Olivia represents Slytherin very well. And her friends are all terrible at Quidditch, so I didn't put them on the team for that reason."

"You think Sadie Baldock is bad at Quidditch?" Olivia burst. "You think Imogen Stretton is bad at Quidditch? They both did just as well as I did at the tryout. We all made five out of five goals. We can all catch a Quaffle. And we can all hold our own with Beater's bats."

"Well, yeah," Marcus admitted, "but the three of you are mudbloods, so - "

"_What?_" Olivia cried, and to her surprise, Professor Snape looked just as horrified as she felt.

"Don't get me wrong, you're good at Quidditch," Marcus said, hands held up in surrender. "But I can't have mudbloods on my team. What would people say?"

"What makes you think," Olivia hissed, "that I am a _mudblood_?"

He looked confused. "Didn't you study in the library with Gryffindor Granger once?"

"Yes."

"Well, there you go." He shrugged. "Mudbloods only associate with other mudbloods."

"Flint," Snape snapped. "Do not let me hear you using that word again."

"I am going to say this very slowly, so you understand," Olivia said to Marcus. "I have two very magical parents. Hermione Granger is smart, and I study with her so I can get good grades."

"Doesn't matter. We have a reputation to uphold, and I can't have you spoiling it."

Olivia curled her hands into fists. "What if I spoil your face, Marcus, what then?"

Marcus looked up at Snape. "Professor," he began.

"Let her on the team," Snape said.

Marcus felt his jaw drop. "What?"

"You heard me, Flint. If you wish to keep your Captain status, you will let her on the team."

Olivia sent him a satisfied smirk.

"But, Professor - "

"If she flew well, you let her on the team. I will _not _see the Quidditch Cup go to the Gryffindors because you are too stubborn to let in the decent fliers."

Olivia's smirk grew into a genuine smile. "Thank you, Professor Snape."

"Slytherin values say that only _purebloods_ - "

"She _is _a pureblood, Flint."

Marcus looked frustrated. "But in the past, we've always had all-male teams! Please, Professor, it's been a tradition ever since I've been at Hogwarts!"

"Traditions change," was all Snape said before he swept back up to the staff table.

"Happy?" Marcus said glumly as Olivia sat down next to him.

"Extremely." She helped herself to a spoonful of potatoes. "Pass the butter?"

He reached across the table and dropped the butter unceremoniously in front of her.

"Oh, don't look so upset," she snapped. "Think of it this way, now we get to spend more time together." She leaned over to kiss his cheek. "I do miss spending time with you, sweetheart."

Marcus grunted.

"You'll be fine," she insisted. "The team is going to do well this year, you'll see."

"Not _that_," he said. "You threw my dinner across the room."

"Oh. Here." She passed him her plate. "Better?"

He nodded, a faint smile on his face, and leaned in to peck her on the lips. "I love you," he said, digging into the mashed potatoes.

"I love you, too, darling."

"Even though you're a mudblood."

She closed her eyes. "Marcus. I'm a pureblood. Honestly, you are not _allowed _to be that much of an idiot. Where did you learn to be so _dumb?_ Did you take a Bludger to the _head_?"

He shrugged. "I dunno. At some point, probably, yeah. Pass me some more pork, will you?"

Olivia sighed as she loaded his plate with pork. "Sometimes I don't know what I see in you." She passed the plate back. "Happy four-year anniversary, by the way."

"Yeah." He gave her a food-filled grin. "You, too."

* * *

_[Tien Len Competition: Eight of Hearts - Marcus Flint, reason, "Don't play dumb.", "The world hates change, yet it is the only thing that has brought progress."- Charles Kettering]_

_[Disney Character Competition: Mulan - write about someone overcoming gender issues. Prompt: Wrath]_

_[Fiddler on the Roof Song Challenge: Miracle of Miracles - write about a broken tradition.]_

_[Fiddler on the Roof Character Challenge: Motel - write about someone longing for the achievable.]_

_[100 Prompts: "You are not allowed to be that much of an idiot."]_

_[Relationship Bingo Board Challenge: E3 - Love/Hate]_


	11. Gobstones - Lily Luna Potter

**Gobstones**

_Lily Luna Potter_

* * *

Lily Luna found the gobstones when she was rummaging through James' things.

She knew she wasn't supposed to go in his room, knew James would throw a fit if he ever found out - but James was at Hogwarts, and so was Al, and it wasn't _her _fault that they'd left her alone with nothing to do.

"Lily?" her mother called from downstairs. "Lily, where are you?"

"Up here," she yelled. "Looking for my . . . jumper."

Her mother's light footsteps echoed on the stairs; Lily stuffed the gobstones in her pocket and bolted out of James' room. "Your jumper's in your room, I just put it - _Lily_!"

"What?" She widened her eyes and gave her mother her best innocent-princess smile.

"What did you do?"

"Nothing."

Her mother narrowed her eyes. "You did _something. _You have that_ look_."

"A look?" She blinked twice. "What look?"

"The look Uncle George used to have when he was up to something."

"I don't have a look."

"You do." Her mother leaned against the banister, laundry basket balanced on her hip. "It must be genetic. James inherited Daddy's hair, and Al inherited Daddy's eyes, but you inherited Uncle George's _look_."

"Well I'm not up to anything," she said, refusing to glance at James' room. "I'm just bored. I don't have anyone to play with anymore. Everyone's at Hogwarts."

"Oh, sweetheart." Her mother set the laundry down and pulled Lily into a hug. "Not everyone's at Hogwarts. What about Lucy? What about Hugo?"

"Hugo always teases me," she said. "And Lucy's alright, but whenever I go over there I don't know how to act. Uncle Percy won't let me sit on the furniture."

"Uncle Percy didn't let you put your muddy _feet _on his new _couch_," her mother corrected, tapping Lily's nose.

"I still don't want to go to Lucy's."

"You could invite her here."

"Our house is _boring_," Lily moaned, letting herself fall against the wall. Something slimy began to trickle down the outside of her leg, and her breathing hitched as she realized she'd landed on James' gobstones in her pocket and prompted them to squirt black ink.

"What about Roxanne?"

"Roxanne." Lily shifted to hide the giant stain spreading on her trousers. "Yes, I like her. I'll go over there right away." She scooted around her mother and started down the stairs, hugging the wall with her hip. "Bye, Mum!"

"You've got that _look _again," her mother called after her, stooping to lift the laundry basket.

* * *

"Oh, _Lily_," Roxanne giggled when she saw the state of her cousin's trousers. "And Aunt Ginny didn't notice the ink?"

"No. Careful!" she added as Roxanne reached out toward the stain. "It's wet. Don't want it to get all over you, too."

Roxanne retracted her hand. "What are you going to do?"

"I don't know." She buried her face in her hands. "Mum does all the laundry, she'll see it for sure. And then she'll know I was in James' room, and she'll tell him, and I'll be in trouble."

"Just tell her they were your gobstones."

"No, that won't work. James is the only one in the family who has a set. Dad bought it for him when he got into Hogwarts. He wouldn't get any for the rest of us, said it's too messy and James is the only one careful enough." She looked down at herself. "S'pose he wasn't wrong."

"Gobstone juice is hard to remove without magic," Roxanne said unhelpfully. "We could ask my mum to do it."

"She'd tell my mum, and then I'd be done for."

"What about Dad? He wouldn't tell, he kept all kinds of secrets from his parents when he was our age. He'd be sympathetic."

Lily bit her lip. "My mum _did _say I sometimes look like him."

Roxanne tilted her head to the side. "I can see it. You sort of smile like him. Like you've got a giant secret, and you know it's hilarious."

"What's hilarious?" asked Uncle George, coming into the kitchen.

"Lily's trousers," Roxanne said immediately, pointing at the black stain that was still spreading over her cousin's left leg.

Uncle George burst out laughing. "Gobstones?" he guessed. "Same thing happened to me once. You forgot they were in your pocket?"

Lily nodded. "Can you fix it? Before my mum sees?"

"Don't be afraid of your mum," Uncle George told her, pulling out his wand and motioning for her to come closer. "She used to be the worst of us all. Got herself into so many tight places doing things she shouldn't have been doing. It's a miracle our mum didn't kill her."

"Grandma wouldn't kill anyone," Roxanne said. "She wouldn't hurt a fly."

"Hah!" Uncle George tapped Lily's trousers with his wand, and the ink stain began to recede. ("Oh, Uncle George, you're a hero," Lily said.) "Grandma used to have a terrible temper. It went down a bit after - the war." But he hesitated, and Lily knew exactly what he'd been about to say.

"Grandma with a _temper_?" Roxanne repeated. "I can't even imagine that."

"I can," Lily said. "It was probably like my mum's."

"Oh, no. Worse than your mum's." Uncle George put his wand away and leaned up against the counter. "She nearly murdered me once."

"Why?"

"I borrowed the flying car. Fr - Uncle Ron and I took it to go pick up Uncle Harry."

Lily's eyes were huge. "You had a flying car?"

"Yeah. Uncle Ron and Uncle Harry drove it to Hogwarts once. They missed the train. Grandma sent a Howler."

Roxanne began to laugh.

"What about when Uncle Ron was belching slugs?" Lily begged. "Tell that story!"

"It was on the Quidditch pitch," Uncle George said. "The whole team was there. Oliver Wood, Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnett, your Auntie Angelina, and your dad. And maybe Lee Jordan, too."

"You had a lot of friends," Lily interrupted. "I only have my brothers."

"And me," Roxanne added.

"Yes, and you. Uncle George, did you meet them all at Hogwarts?"

"Yeah, most of them."

"That's why, then." Lily looked glum. "I'm too young. Too young for Hogwarts, too young for friends."

"You'll have plenty of friends," Uncle George assured her. "Don't worry. Anyway, Uncle Ron tried to curse the Slytherin Seeker, but the charm backfired - "

"How do you _know _she'll have plenty of friends?" Roxanne asked.

"I dunno, because it's Hogwarts. Everyone makes plenty of friends. The charm backfired, and - "

"I don't think I'll make friends." Lily reached into her pocket and pulled out James' gobstones. "Even my siblings don't like me enough to let me borrow their things."

"Nobody likes their siblings," Uncle George said. "Not until they're older."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I used to hate Uncle Percy."

Roxanne giggled. "I _still _hate Uncle Percy," she admitted. "He always makes me whisper."

"That's because you're quite loud, Roxanne," Lily said, carefully depositing James' toys back in her pocket.

"Am not!" Roxanne gave her cousin a little shove with her hip.

"Are _too_!" Lily giggled, shoving her back.

"I'm not _loud_!" Roxanne shoved her harder, and Lily went flying into the counter.

"Are - oh, no!"

And then everyone - Uncle George included - dissolved into a fit of laughter, because Lily had landed on the gobstones again, and a brand new ink stain was working its way down her trousers.

* * *

_[Tien Len Competition: Four of Hearts: Lily Luna Potter, Gobstones, "Careful! It's wet.", "Count your age by friends, not years. Count your life by smiles, not tears."- John Lennon]_

_[Disney Character Competition: Ariel - write about a Next-Gen kid. Prompt: Child]_

_[Oh The Thinks You Can Think: Bartholomew Cubbins - write about an unlikely hero.]_

_[Collect A Collection Competition: Roxanne (Weasleys)]_

_[Fiddler on the Roof Character Challenge: __Bielke - write about the youngest child of a large family.]_

_[Fiddler on the Roof Song Challenge: __Sabbath Prayer - write about a mother.__]_

_[100 Prompts:__ "Whoa! Seriously!"; A sudden change of topic__]_


	12. Dear Minister - Kingsley Shacklebolt

**Dear Minister**

_Kingsley Shacklebolt_

* * *

Kingsley Shacklebolt was just changing into his pajamas when the owl brought the first letter from the Ministry.

_Dear Minister, _the letter began.

_We don't mean to bother you so late, but the Sneakoscopes at the entrance of the Department of Magical Transportation have alerted us that there may be an intruder in the Ministry. We request your presence as soon as possible._

Kingsley frowned and pulled his robes on over his nightshirt. "Hestia, I'm afraid I've got to go back to the Ministry," he called to his wife.

"So late?" Hestia Jones slid out of bed and moved to his side. "What do they need?"

"There's an intruder. This could be important." He bent to kiss her cheek. "I'll be back in an hour. Don't wait up."

"Be safe," Hestia called as he turned on the spot and Disapparated with a _pop_!

* * *

When he Apparated home again, it startled Hestia out of a peaceful slumber.

"Well?" she asked, waving her wand to light the lamp. "Was it important?"

Kingsley shrugged out of his robes, straightened his nightshirt, and padded on bare feet to his side of the bed. "Not particularly. The Sneakoscopes must have been picking up vibes from Mundungus Fletcher. He's at the Ministry to pay a fine, he probably passed the Department of Magical Transportation. The Sneakoscopes could tell they were in the presence of someone dishonest, so they went off." He yawned. "In hindsight, it may not have been a good idea to guard our Departments with something so . . . vague."

Hestia smirked. "Ah, well, it's done with now." She raised her wand to put out the lights -

- and nearly put out the eye of an owl that came soaring through the window with a letter in its talons.

"It's for you," Hestia said, glancing at the envelope.

"More post?" Kingsley ripped the letter open.

_Dear Minister,_

_We apologize for bothering you again, but there appears to be some trouble down in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. The Sneakoscopes are going wild - but that's not all. We have charms set up to alert us of any activity in the chambers reserved for the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures, and there is suspicious movement in the area, even though no committee meeting is scheduled for this evening._

_We suspect a dangerous creature may have broken free of its enclosure, and we request your presence as soon as possible to assist in the rectification of this matter._

Kingsley stepped onto the floor.

"You can't be serious," Hestia said. "You're going? It's eleven o'clock at night!"

"I have to. This could be important. And what kind of Minister would I be if I sat back and let a dangerous situation play out without me?"

Hestia sighed. "Could you Floo back, at least?" she asked. "So you don't wake me up when you Apparate here at Merlin-knows-what-time?"

He nodded. "See you in a bit." And he vanished.

* * *

It was midnight when the fireplace downstairs glowed green and Kingsley stepped out.

Hestia was awake anyway. "Well?" she asked as he came up to bed. "Was there a dangerous creature?"

"No. It was a _fly_. A bloody _fly _got in the way of their bloody sensors and triggered the alarm." He flopped down on the bed.

"But what about the Sneakoscopes?"

"Probably just Dung again."

Hestia leaned back against the pillows and closed her eyes. "At least it's over with now, and you can get some sleep."

But as she said it, another owl soared in and dropped a letter into Kingsley's lap.

_Dear Minister,_

_We deeply regret to inform you that your presence is again required at the Ministry. We have received reports that several dark spells, including Unforgivable Curses, have been cast tonight in the Auror Office. We request you return to the Ministry as soon as possible to prevent a duel situation from breaking out. It is unclear at this time whether the spells are coming from Ministry Officials, Aurors-in-training, or intruders._

"Kingsley," Hestia said sharply as her husband started to roll out of bed. "Don't go."

"I have to," he said, pulling his robes on for the third time that night. "This could be import - "

"It wasn't important before," she said. "What makes you think it'll be important this time?"

"I have to assume it's always important." He kissed her quickly and then turned on the spot to Disapparate.

"Hmph." Hestia closed her eyes and tried to drift back to sleep.

* * *

It was two hours later when Kingsley Apparated back into his room, cursing under his breath and startling his wife awake.

"Oh, sorry!" He touched her shoulder. "I'm sorry. I forgot about taking the Floo."

Hestia kept her eyes closed. "Was it an intruder?"

"No."

"Was it a Ministry Official?"

"No."

"Was it an Auror-in-training?"

"Yes. In a regularly scheduled Auror training session." He fell into bed and buried his face in the pillow.

Hestia groaned. "I told you it wasn't going to be important."

"I know you did. But it's over. Let's just try to get some sleep."

As if it was waiting for its cue, an owl swooped in with a letter.

"Kingsley Shacklebolt, if you go back to the Ministry tonight, I want a divorce," Hestia mumbled.

_Dear Minister,_

_Unfortunately there is another disturbance here at the Ministry tonight that required your presence. The Department of Mysteries -_

"The Department of Mysteries," Hestia repeated. "_Honestly_. They think someone broke into the _Department of Mysteries_."

"I have to, Hestia." He was already climbing out of bed. "It could be important."

"Who's even sending all these bloody notes?"

Kingsley scanned the letter, but there was no signature. "I'm not sure, actually. I didn't think to ask."

"Okay, so they're not signed, they're not on official Ministry stationary, and they're never about real issues. Kingsley, maybe you're being _pranked_."

"Pranked? The Minister of Magic?" He pulled on his robes. "Go to sleep, darling. If it really is nothing this time, I'll stay at the Ministry until tomorrow morning. I won't wake you again."

And then he Disapparated.

"Bloody _fool_," Hestia muttered, rolling over and closing her eyes.

* * *

"Here he comes," Lee Jordan whispered excitedly.

"Shut _up_, Lee," George hissed, elbowing him in the ribs. "The Cloak doesn't block sound!"

Lee closed his mouth and crouched a little lower, just in case the Invisibility Cloak (which he and George had _borrowed _from Harry - he wouldn't miss it, he was too busy with his newborn daughter to notice much of anything) wasn't covering his ankles all the way. Kingsley Shacklebolt appeared in the lobby, looking furious and exhausted, and stepped into the elevator where Lee and George were hiding.

"Department of Mysteries," he said to the elevator box, and the lift began to shudder and then descend.

"I can't believe it," Lee breathed. "This is the _fourth time _we've gotten him out of bed. I thought for sure he'd realize after the first letter."

"_Shut up, Lee!"_

The lift came to a stop, and Kingsley marched out, wand drawn, and disappeared around the corner.

"Poor bloke," George said, heaving the Cloak off. "Reckon we should tell him?"

"Nah," Lee said. "Did you see how angry he looked? He'd throw us in Azkaban."

"You're right." George instructed the elevator to return them to the lobby. "Best to let him go home after this and get a nice peaceful sleep."

"Well. . . ." Lee was grinning sheepishly. "I'd actually already started a fifth letter. This time it says there's a disturbance at the Potters' house."

"Lee."

"Come on, just picture it. He gets to their house. He knocks on their door. He wakes all of them up at two o'clock in the morning - all of them, kids included. And you know once James is up, that little bugger is up for hours. Just _imagine _it."

George couldn't quite hold back his grin. "All right," he said as they stepped off the lift. "One last letter."

"Great." Lee cleared his throat. "'_Dear Minister, We are terribly sorry to report that there has been a break-in at Mr. Harry Potter's home, and Mr. Potter has specifically requested your presence. . . .'_"

* * *

_[Tien Len Competition: Seven of Hearts - Kingsley Shacklebolt, peaceful, "This could be important.", "Action will delineate and define you."- Thomas Jefferson]_

_[Disney Character Competition: Mufasa - write about Kingsley Shacklebolt. Prompt: Lamp]_

_[100 Prompts: "We are definitely doing that again!"; "Bother!"]_

_[Collect A Collection Competition: Kingsley Shacklebolt (Order Members)]_

_[Het-Pairings Boot Camp: again]_

_[Fiddler on the Roof Character Challenge: __Perchik - write about any member of the Order of the Phoenix who wasn't in the DA.__]_


	13. Too Late - Lycoris Black

**Too Late**

_Lycoris Black_

* * *

"Lycoris," her mother said when she saw her daughter peeping through the crack in the door. "Ly, it's all right. You can come in."

"I heard screaming," Ly whispered. She pushed the door open a little more, but she didn't venture into the room. "I heard you screaming."

"Yes, I was screaming, but it's all right now." She shifted the bundle of cloth in her arms. "Come in. Come meet your brother."

"I already have a brother." She padded across the stone floor to her mother's side. "Arcturus."

"No, no, this is a new brother." Her mother reached down to stroke Ly's messy hair. "His name is Regulus."

Ly looked confused. "Another boy?"

"Yes, darling. Do you want to meet him?"

She shook her head. "I wanted a girl."

Her mother laughed. "I know you did. But a little brother will be fun, too. Here." She leaned forward so Ly could see within the bundle of cloth in her arms. "He's beautiful."

Ly had to stand on tiptoe to see the baby. He was asleep, with his eyes scrunched up and his lips slightly parted, and yes, he _was _beautiful, but she couldn't let her mother know that. "He's ugly," she said shortly. "I wanted a _girl_."

Her mother pulled Regulus back up to her chest. "Maybe when you're a mum, _you _can have a girl," she suggested.

"When can I be a mum?"

"When you're all grown up and you've found a husband."

"I'm grown up now."

"Hm. Maybe when you're a bit _more _grown up."

"How much? When I'm four, maybe?"

"Maybe when you're . . . twenty-five."

Ly pursed her lips. "No, when I'm four, Mummy."

"Okay. Maybe when you're four. But who will be your husband?"

Ly thought about it for a moment, and then her eyes lit up. "Maybe Daddy can be my husband!"

Her mother smiled. "Maybe. Why don't you ask him?"

"Okay!" And she ran from the room shouting, "Daddy? Daddy? Daddy?"

* * *

"Did I miss it?" Lycoris cried twenty-three years later, bursting into St. Mungo's, where her sister-in-law was supposed to be having a baby.

"You missed the delivery," Arcturus said with a smirk. "By nearly four hours. She's in the recovery room. What were you doing that made you so late?"

"Oh, I was with Morfin, but that's not important."

"Morfin?" Arcturus raised his eyebrows. "Morfin Gaunt?"

"Yes."

"For four hours?"

"He's my boyfriend, Arcturus, we spend a lot of time together." She slipped her hands behind her back. "Where's the baby? Is it a girl?"

"No. A boy. Orion."

"Not a - well, that's fine. Still lovely. Orion. That's beautiful." Ly sank into a chair and put her face in her hands. "Really beautiful."

"Yes. Ly - " Arcturus grabbed her left wrist. "Lycoris Black, what's on your _hand?_"

She yanked away and put her hands behind her back again. "Nothing."

"That was a bloody _ring_."

She reddened. "An _engagement _ring," she corrected. "We aren't married. Not yet."

"When did this - "

"Today. Roughly four hours ago. Leave me be, I want to see the baby."

"Dad will never approve. The Gaunts are terribly poor."

"They're descended from Salazar Slytherin himself. There's honor in that." She rose from the chair. "I'm going to the recovery room to see the baby."

"Slytherin blood isn't enough to excuse their insanity. Especially in Morfin. Ly, how could you fall in _love _with - "

"It's not love." Ly looked fiercely into his eyes. "It's not love. Not at _all_."

"Oh." Arcturus sighed. "You just want a baby."

She stared at him for a long moment. "I'm going to see Orion," she said finally, turning on her heel and marching away toward the recovery room.

* * *

"Well?" Lycoris asked, and it was later - years later - she had lost track of time, all she knew was Morfin was dead in Azkaban and her latest beau, Roland Kegg, was too busy touring with his Gobstones team to settle down and it didn't matter, anyway, neither of them mattered, because it was too late, she was too old to have a baby now. "Well? Did she have it?"

Her nephew, Orion, nodded. "She had the baby. She's resting now. I think the Healers are with her in the recovery room."

"Is it a girl?" Ly begged.

"No. A boy."

"A boy." Ly exhaled. "That's marvelous."

"Yes. We're going to call him Regulus."

"Like my brother."

"Yes, like Uncle Reg. Middle name is Arcturus. Good way to honor them both, I think."

"Yes." Ly sat down and began to twist her hands up in each other. "So Sirius has a baby brother now."

"He does."

"I remember when my baby brother was born."

"Aunt Ly," Orion said, looking at her hands, "what happened to your engagement ring?"

"Hmm?" She held up her left hand, as if she hadn't realized it was missing. "Oh. Roland Kegg and I broke it off."

"Why? I thought you liked him."

"I did. But he's always traveling. Never any time for a family. He's Captain of the Gobstones Team, you know. Very prestigious. But no time to settle down."

Orion patted her shoulder. "You'll find someone else. Someone better."

"No, I have no expectations of that," Lycoris said with a wan smile. "I've been engaged twice, and it's never worked out before."

"Don't give up, though. You've wanted a family all your life."

She looked up at him. "I have a family. I have my lovely nephew Orion. I have my niece-in-law Walburga. I have my great-nephew Sirius, and now a new great-nephew Regulus. And your sister is engaged to a Prewett, isn't she? So I'll have even more family soon."

Orion shook his head. "That's not enough for you, though, is it. You wanted children of your own."

Ly sighed and stood. "Take me to the recovery room, please. I want to meet little Regulus Arcturus Black."

* * *

It was on her way out of St. Mungo's that she nearly crashed into him.

"Roland? Roland Kegg, is that you?"

"It's me."

"What are you doing here?" she asked. "I thought you were meant to be in Russia, for the international Gobstones tour?"

Her one-time fiancé seized her arms and looked into her eyes. "Ly. Listen. I can't stop thinking about you. I can't focus, I've been playing like rubbish for a month." He took a deep breath. "So I resigned."

"You did _what_?"

"I quit. I'm done. It's over. And - " He sank to one knee. "Ly, I want to spend the rest of my life with you." He pulled out a small black box. She knew what was inside, knew it intimately, knew how it felt on her finger and how it sparkled in the sun and how much it weighed. "Will you marry me? For real, this time?"

She closed her eyes. "No," she whispered.

"Did you - no?"

"No."

He was still on one knee, his face frozen between happiness and bewilderment. "Why not? I - I sacrificed everything for you. Everything's finally coming together!"

She shook her head. "I'm sorry. But it's too late."

"You found someone else?"

"No." She offered him a sad smile. "It's just . . . too late."

And she walked away from him with one hand pressed against her flat, empty stomach.

* * *

_[Tien Len Competition: Two of Hearts - Lycoris Black, honor, "I have no expectations.", "Everything's just come together at last. (It's broken, I don't want to play.)"- Evelyn Evelyn 'Evelyn Evelyn']_

_[Disney Character Competition: Scar - write about family jealousy. Prompt: Birth]_

_[Relationship Bingo Board Challenge: C5 - No romance]_

_[Fiddler on the Roof Character Challenge: __Shprintze - write about a middle child.__]_


	14. Six Brooms - Josef Wronski

**Six Brooms**

_Joseph Wronski_

* * *

Josef Wronski always likes to joke that he rode a broom before he learned to walk.

(It's funny because he was born with a bone deformity that even the Healers couldn't fix, and he's never been able to walk in his life.)

But Wronski doesn't let it get him down; he isn't the type to mope, and he likes to find the silver lining in every situation. When people approach him and offer timid apologies for the disability that is in no way their fault, Wronski waves it all away and reminds them that he was the only Hogwarts first-year to be allowed a broomstick, and the envy of his classmates fully makes up for the tragedy of the circumstances.

And people laugh along with him, and Wronski wouldn't have it any other way.

* * *

His first broom is a Bluebottle, and it isn't even his.

It's his father's, and Wronski (he's always been Wronski, just Wronski, because it's what his father called him to show he wasn't ashamed to share a name with his son) perches on the back of it and throws his arms around his father's waist to stay on.

And even though they don't go anywhere - even though it's just mindless circles and they're only a foot off the ground - Wronski can't get enough.

"Daddy, can we go again?" he begs, and his father reaches around to tousle Wronski's hair.

"One more lap around the yard, and then we've got to go inside."

(One more lap always turns into ten more, though, because Wronski's laughter and his two-year-old pearly whites and his big brown eyes make it impossible to say no.)

* * *

His second broom is a Tinderblast, and it's a birthday present from his parents, and he loves it.

Because it's finally _his_, he finally has a _broom of his own_, and maybe this freedom will lead to more freedoms.

It's hard, at first, to get used to flying without a father to hold on to, but Wronski's never been a quitter - he's too stubborn for that, too stubborn and too optimistic - so he takes his Tinderblast out night after night and practices until he's comfortable, and then he pushes himself even further until he's _good_, and by the time the one-year mark rolls around Wronski is _brilliant _on a broom.

He flies as if he were born with wings, some of the neighbors say, and none of them admit it, but they're all shocked that this little crippled boy is capable of being so _talented_.

* * *

His third broom is a Swiftstick, which is waiting on the table along with a Hogwarts letter the morning of his eleventh birthday, and Wronski falls in love with flying all over again.

Because the Bluebell was safe and the Tinderblast was steady, but the Swiftstick is _fast_, and Wronski never realized before how much he needs to go _fast_.

The Swiftstick loses power as it ascends, so Wronski sticks close to the ground, whizzing around the house and streaking over Muggle highways to see if they can possible notice him.

(They never can.)

It's the Swiftstick he's riding the first time his father teaches him Quidditch.

"Seven positions," his father explains, tossing an apple between his hands. "Three Chasers. Two Beaters. A Keeper. And a Seeker."

Wronski is hovering on his broom about five feet off the ground. His eyes flick back and forth between his father's hands, never leave the apple.

"The Chasers score points by throwing balls into hoops. The Beaters try to stop them - they've got bats, they hit different balls every which-way to distract the Chasers. The Keeper guards the hoop. And the Seeker goes after the Snitch."

"Which one am I?" Wronski asks.

"You could play any of them, son, with the amount of time you spend on a broom. But you're fast, more than anything else, and I've got my money on Seeker."

And his father throws the apple in a long arc; Wronski streaks across the street to catch it. He nearly doesn't make it, but he leans down - almost loses his balance - and snatches the apple the instant before it hits the ground.

"Yes," his father says. "I've got my money on Seeker."

* * *

His fourth broom is the Nimbus 1500, and even though he's sad to abandon his beloved Swiftstick, he loves the Nimbus, loves its speed and its agility and the way it can go _high_.

And he's Captain of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team - the youngest Captain in history, they've never had a third-year in charge, but there's no denying Wronski's the best man for the job - and the stands are filled with reporters and recruiters and fans who have all heard his story and want to see the hawk in action.

(That's what they call him. The Hawk. Because he takes to the sky as if he were born to be there, and he's never failed to catch a Snitch.)

And in his sixth year he starts dating his Keeper, Cassandra, and when they go out late at night he likes to stay on the ground while she soars through the air, because the stars look like halos to him, and he likes to be reminded that he's fallen in love with an angel.

(They don't last more than a year, because angels refuse to be tied down.)

(And so do hawks, for that matter.)

* * *

Wronski's fifth broom, the one he keeps until the day he dies, is the Wronski 500, and it's a custom-built broom made especially for him by none other than his father.

It's light, both in color and in weight, and in all the interviews he tells the reporters, "I wouldn't trade it for the world," and he means it, because it may not be the as fast as the Swiftstick or as steady as the Tinderblast or as high-quality as the Nimbus, but there's love infused in ever peach-colored splinter, and there's nothing on Earth more important than that.

It's on the Wronski 500 that he perfects the false diving technique that makes him famous: the Wronski Feint.

(And the papers say the tactic is named after Wronski, but Wronski himself says it's named after his father.)

* * *

Wronski's final broom is made of solid gold.

It isn't created until after he dies, but it's there when he's buried, and they fit it into the hand of the statue that acts as his grave.

And they tilt the statue's head just so, so it's looking up at the sky.

(Because everyone knows Josef Wronski was born to fly.)

* * *

_[Tien Len Competition: Ace of Hearts - Josef Wronski, peach, "I wouldn't trade it for the world," "There's a lit cigarette in the hand of my new angel. She's blowing smoke like halos."- Evans Blue 'Beg']_

_[Fiddler on the Roof Song Challenge: __Anatevka - Write about abandoning a loved possession.__]_

_[Disney Character Competition: Bambi - write about someone growing up. Prompt: Bone]_


	15. Heirlooms - Irma Crabbe

**Heirlooms**

_Irma Crabbe Black_

* * *

Sirius dreaded visiting his grandmother.

Because Irma was a Crabbe by birth, a Black by marriage, and a Slytherin by nature, and she despised him for not being exactly like everyone else in the family.

(Plus she had a long memory, and she hadn't ever forgiven him for charming her cane to squeak loudly every time she touched it.)

But now she was finally dying, and she'd asked to see each grandchild individually so she could bequeath her final gifts to them. So here he was, dressed up in uncomfortable shoes with his hair slicked back, standing outside the door of the grandmother he despised.

"Hullo, Granny," Sirius said sullenly when it was his turn to enter her bedchamber.

"Sirius." Irma coughed. "Gryffindor traitor."

Sirius sighed. "Yes, Granny."

"The Sorting Hat made a mistake. No Black is a Gryffindor."

"Yes, Granny, I know. You've been telling me for a year."

"You go up to that headmaster and tell him it's a mistake!"

"It's not a mistake. I like Gryffindor House, and I think it's a good match for me. I'm loyal. Loyalty runs in our family, doesn't it?"

"Loyalty to Slytherin!"

Sirius didn't say anything for a moment. "I'm sorry I'm not just like you, Granny," he said finally, and he tried very, very hard to make it sound like he meant it.

She shook her head. "I have no gift for you. No gifts for traitors!"

Sirius tugged at his necktie. "Erm. Okay."

"I don't want to waste my time on you," she snapped. "Send in your brother."

* * *

Regulus loved Granny more than anything in the world.

"Regulus," she purred when he came through the door. "How are you, my darling grandson?"

"Fine," Reg whispered. "How are you, Granny?"

"I'm . . . waiting."

"Waiting for what?"

"Death," Granny answered, and Reg's ten-year-old eyes began to swim with tears. "Oh, don't cry, my darling. I've had a long, lovely life." She patted the bed. "Come sit down."

Regulus sat gingerly.

"I want to give something. A a piece of advice." She wrapped her gnarled hands around his smooth ones. "Be true to yourself, Regulus. You know right from wrong. Always do what's _right_. Even when it becomes difficult. Even when others try to tell you not to." She squeezed his hands. "That's what I did. And I have no regrets."

Reg's eyes had overflowed.

"Don't cry, Reg, it's going to be okay."

"You're dying," Regulus choked. "I don't want you to die."

"We all must face death," Granny said. She pressed a kiss into his cheek. "Send in Bellatrix next, would you?"

Reg nodded and wiped his nose on his sleeve. "Granny," he began. "Granny, I - I lo - I love - "

"No need to say it, darling," Granny said with a smile. "I know you feel it in your heart."

* * *

Bellatrix admired her grandmother more than she admired anyone else, her own mother included.

"Bellatrix," Grandmother said when the third grandchild strode in. "Little Bella Black. My pride and joy."

"How do you feel, Grandmother?"

"I feel . . . weak," Grandmother said. "It won't be long now." She sat up up haltingly. "I have a gift for you. It's there. On the night stand." She pointed at a long, thin box.

Bella's eyes widened. "Grandmother, that's your _wand_."

"My grandmother gave it to me before she died," Grandmother said. "And now I want to pass it on to you. Go on. Pick it up."

Eagerly, Bella lifted the lid and pulled out the wand. It was long and black, polished to a shine and slightly curved like a talon.

"I know you already have a wand," Grandmother said. "But this one is ancient, and powerful. Just like the Blacks. It runs in the family. Walnut wood. Dragon heartstring. Strong. Unyielding."

Bella waved it in a careful swish-and-flick. The night stand shot up in the air.

"Use it wisely, Little Bella. Maybe to teach your cousin Sirius a lesson once in awhile. Toughen him up, make him see where his loyalties _should _lie."

Bellatrix's mouth curved into a small smile. "Sirius will come around someday. Don't you worry about that." She bent to kiss her grandmother's hand. "Thank you, Grandmother. I will cherish it forever."

"You're a good girl, Little Bella Black," Grandmother said. "You're going to do great things. I can feel it." She closed her eyes. "Send in Andromeda next, will you?"

* * *

Andromeda was afraid of her grandmother, and she didn't really know why.

"How do you feel?" she asked when she came in.

Irma looked her up and down. Andromeda was the beauty of the family, there was no doubt about it. Her hair fell in soft brown curls around her heart-shaped face, and her eyes were wide and heavily-lashed, not small and sharp like her older sister's or pale and scared like the younger one.

Pity the good looks were wasted on Andromeda.

Because the middle Black sister was _odd_. She wasn't a traitor like Sirius, but she certainly wasn't as devoted to her family as Bellatrix, and Irma got the feeling Andromeda would abandon them all in a heartbeat if someone better came along.

"I'm well," Irma said. "Well, I mean, I'm dying. But it feels good to see you, Dromeda." She reached up behind her head and gently unclasped the large, ugly locket around her neck. "I want to give you this," she said, offering it to her trembling granddaughter.

Andromeda cradled it in her hands as if it were a broken-winged bird. "It's lovely," she said hesitantly. "Thank you."

"That locket has been passed down through the generations. Wear it, my love, and let it remind you of your bond with this family. You are tied to us for all eternity. No matter what. You are a Black, and you will always be a Black." Her black eyes bore into Andromeda's, and even though her tone was civil, it sounded like a threat.

Andromeda swallowed. "I know I'm a Black."

"Good. You can't abandon your family, Andromeda. You never can, even if you want to. Your blood will pull you back."

"Even if I wanted to?" She crinkled her forehead. "Of course I don't want to. You say the strangest things sometimes."

Irma sighed. "I hope I've gotten through to you," she said with a cough. "Send in Cissy."

* * *

Andromeda walked out of her grandmother's chambers looking confused. "Narcissa, it's your turn," she said, turning the locket over in her hands.

"What's that?" Cissy asked. "What'd she give you?"

"A locket." She sat down on the couch next to Regulus, who had tears dripping off the end of his nose. "She made it sound really special. I don't think I want it."

Reg sniffled. "You don't?" He looked hopeful.

"Here." Andromeda handed the locket to her little cousin. "I'm sure you'll find something to do with this."

Reg lowered the chain around his neck and clutched the locket with both hands. "Thank you, Dromeda," he whispered, and she pulled him in so he could cry against her shoulder.

"I would never give away my gift," Bellatrix said from her place near the mantelpiece. She held the wand up to catch the dim light. "Mine's an heirloom."

"She didn't give me anything," Sirius said. "Prat. I drag my arse all the way over here, get all dressed up and everything, and all she does is yell at me _again _for being a Gryffindor."

Bella laughed. "She hinted that I should use my new wand to torture you, Sirius."

Sirius swore. "She _really _doesn't like me."

"Better watch out," Narcissa warned. "Bella knows lots of curses. She can even do - " she lowered her voice to a whisper " - _crucio_."

"That's right, I can," Bella said with a smirk. "Better be nice to me, Sirius."

"Cissy, _go_," Andromeda said, giving her sister a little push toward their grandmother's room.

"Okay." Narcissa straightened her dress and pushed the door open.

Sirius rolled his eyes. "You wouldn't use that spell on me."

Bellatrix held out her wand threateningly. "I would."

"I'd use _imperio _on you first."

"Not if I use _avada _- you know, that one. Not if I use that one on _you _first."

"Old Irma would probably worship you if you did that," Sirius said with a grin.

"So would all your Professors," Bella said, stowing her wand.

* * *

Narcissa walked into Grandmother's room with her hands behind her back. "Grandmother?" she whispered.

No answer.

"Grandmother?"

The shape on the bed wasn't moving.

"Grandmother?"

But Irma was already gone.

* * *

_[Tien Len Competition: King of Hearts - Irma Crabbe, waiting, "You say the strangest things.", "Me? Well, I'm well. Well I mean I'm in hell, but I still have my health. At least that's what they tell me."- Amanda Palmer 'Runs in the Family']_

_[Disney Character Competition: Mama Odie - write about an advice-giver. Prompt: Cry]_

_[Collect A Collection: Regulus Black (Marauder's Era)]_

_[Monthly Drabble-A-Thon: Regulus Black]_

_[Fiddler on the Roof Character Challenge: __Tevye - write about someone who places tradition over family.__]_


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